


Once Upon a Time Turner

by k505



Series: Memories of Ghosts [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Universe Creation, Alternative Universe Travel, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Bisexuality, Blood Adoption, Breeding Kink, Charlie and Bill are NOT brothers, Come Inflation, Complex Altered Timelines, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Double Vaginal Penetration, Dubious Consent, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Female Homosexuality, Female Pregnancy, Hand Jobs, Heterosexual Sex, Heterosexuality, Homosexual Sex, Incest, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Multi, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Mythology - Freeform, No Pedophilia, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Other, Out of Character, Oviposition, Pushy Bottoms, Secret Identity, Teenaged Pregnancy, Time Travel, Unplanned Pregnancy, Use of Aphrodesiacs, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, pregnant incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-06-08 04:30:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15235362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k505/pseuds/k505
Summary: Happiness in Harry Potter’s life is fleeting – much like fireworks exploding in the night sky, they quickly fade. After the birth of his third child, Harry was betrayed by the woman he called his wife and by his friends and family. His entire life was fabricated by a duplicitous and manipulative old goat and three whiny redheads in order to gain power, prestige and wealth. Imprisoned in the Potter manor, while someone else wears his face and uses his name, Harry falls into a deep depression. Then Hermione breaks free of the compulsion spells and potions placed on her by her so-called husband, Ronald. She seeks out her one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter. They concoct a complex plan to change the world and to create a better, brighter future for the world, through time travel. Harry, now under a different identity, is determined to honor Hermione’s sacrifice.This story is on Hiatus due to theft. Another writer has taken my story, and without my permission posted it on a different site claiming that they wrote it. Until they take down the story either by the thief or the website, I will not update this work.





	1. Becoming the Wolf

#  **Once Upon a Time Turner**

**_Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series_ **

**Explicit Adult Content – _Read at your Own discretion_**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

 _Additional Illustrations by_ No One Currently – Looking for Artists

 _Edited and Proofread by_ BluC1026

**_Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors_ **

* * *

 

 **(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling’s Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beedle the Bard (book), Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (script), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their respective creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit. 

**Once Upon a Time Turner, _Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series_**

**Summary:** Happiness in Harry Potter’s life is fleeting – much like fireworks exploding in the night sky, they quickly fade. After the birth of his third child, Harry was betrayed by the woman he called his wife and by his friends and family. His entire life was fabricated by a duplicitous and manipulative old goat and by three whiney redheads in order to gain power, prestige and wealth. Imprisoned in the Potter manor, while someone else wears his face and uses his name, Harry falls into a deep depression. Then Hermione breaks free of the compulsion spells and potions placed on her by her so-called husband, Ronald. She seeks out her one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter. They concoct a complex plan to change the world and to create a better, brighter future for the world, through time travel. Harry, now under a different identity, is determined to honor Hermione’s sacrifice.   

 **Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

 **Future/Established Side Pairing(s):** Marius Gaunt ǀ Alt. Dark Lord/Bellatrix Black/Evan Rosier/Barty Crouch Jr./Alecto Carrow/Hestia Carrow/Flora Carrow/Pansy Parkinson/Nadia Nott, Undecided/Reinaldo McNair, Arcturus Black/Melania McMillan, Charlus Potter/Dorea Black, Altair Potter/Elizabeth McKinnon, Joshua Ryder/Aurelius Potter, Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier, Theodore Tonks/Andromeda Black, Magnus Ravenswood/Arthur Weasley/Byrne McCaffrey, Oliver Wood/Francis “Frankie” Belby, Gregory “Greg” Belby/Angelina Johnson, Percival Rookwood/Audrey Whittle, Aquila Black/Julius Potter/Nicodemus Diggory/Daemon Bones, Alessander Blythe/Sirius Black, Vernon Dursley/Adele Addison, Paul Martin/Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley/Lavinia Richards, Scorpius Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Corbin Capulet/Erin Lovegood, Roger Davies/Cedric Diggory/Isaiah Holmes-Moriarty, Bran Kensington/Erik Lovegood/Aistan Kamel/Tao-Peng Lin/Basilio Leone/Indra Kumar/Oleander Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Lysander Trelawney, Laurence Scamander/Ophelia Malfoy/Nymphadora Tonks, Odysseus Malfoy/Hermione Holmes-Moriarty, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, Percival Graves/Newton Scamander, Theseus Scamander/Leta Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy/Queenie Goldstein, Claudius Malfoy/Narcissa Black, Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange, Nikola Watson/Dianna Potter, Remus Lupin/Fiona Wellington/Josie Martinez/Elysia Frost/Claire Morten/Rhea DuBois, Auric D’Arcy/Amelie Chastain-Leone/Henrik Frost, Xenophilius Lovegood/Aleksander Chastain-Leone, Rolf Scamander/Luna Lovegood 

* * *

Listen carefully, my dear reader… Humans fear what they cannot predict, what they cannot control and what they cannot understand. To use magic and to see the true nature of this world, one must free themselves of these fears. If you want to see beyond the façade of the ordinary and predictable, you must embrace the unknown and face the fact that not everything is dictated by logic and reason. Suspend your criticism and doubts and believe in something greater and more wonderful than you can ever imagine.

 

**Introduction**

Becoming the Wolf

 _“Have you ever dealt with people who have lost everything in just an hour? In the morning you leave the house where your wife, your children, your parents live. You return, and you find a smoking pit. Then something happens to you – to a certain extent you stop being human. You do not need any glory, money anymore; revenge becomes your only joy. And because you no longer cling to life, death avoids you, the bullets fly past. You become a wolf.”_ –  **Russian General Aleksander Lebed**

“Please,” I beg, “I want to see my children, Ginny! Please, please let me see my kids!” I plead desperately with the middle-aged redheaded woman, my eyes are wild with fear. Desperation gnaws at me like a lion at an antelope’s leg, it’s a helpless sickening feeling. I am panicking, I fear that I will be alone once more without having seen my children, even for a moment. I reach for her wrist unconsciously. She sneers down on me from where I am on my knees on the white marble floor, begging. Drawing her foot back she lands a kick in my gut and I crumple in on myself. By the time I recover, wheezing, the massive front door slams shut behind the redheaded witch. I stare at the redwood door uncomprehendingly for several moments. _I am alone once more. I am imprisoned in the old Potter Estate alone, always alone. Ginny has gotten what she wants, she had forced me to impregnate her, again, like some prized stud. However, she had not followed through with her half of the bargain._ “Fuck!” I curse slamming my fist against the marble wall of the foyer, tears of frustration and anger trailing down my cheeks. _Maybe, I was stupid, gullible or just desperate enough to see my kids that I had believed she’d uphold her half of the bargain. Maybe, she’d slipped me something or spelled me befuddled. Maybe, I am just lonely, and I let myself be used, desperate for some human contact. If I am brutally honest with myself, it is the last option._

 _The carnal pleasures we commit together always leaves a bad taste in my mouth and later, I know I will be sick over the toilet. Sick of my own desperation, sick of Ginny’s greed (her wanton moans still ring in my ears, as does her sickening praise) and sick from the act itself. She’d forced my hand, but I had still committed the carnal act. Although, I can lay with women, my sexual preference lies in my own gender. I am so lonely, trapped in these echoing old halls._ _I desperately want to see my children._

Ginny and her mother had used dark and blood magic to imprison me here against my will, then gave my face and name to someone else. Unfortunately, whoever was wearing my face is infertile. So, I was Ginny’s only means for children. _She is desperate for more children before she reaches an age she cannot carry children. I am trapped eternally in my seventeen years old form – young and fertile._

I received the Daily Prophet and read as “Harry Potter” bolstered his fame as an Auror with his daring rescues of victims and captures of criminals. Whomever was wearing my identity was almost suicidal in their drive to save everyone. Sometimes I wondered if my imposter was actually suicidal, wanting to escape the Weasley’s control. I had tried suicide, but the Master of Death title was not some child’s fairytale, after all. I had cleaned up the evidence before Ginny and Molly discovered my inability to stay dead in addition to my eternal youth. I didn’t want them to capitalize on that knowledge.

I sink to the floor burying my head in my hands. _I wondered how James Sirius and Albus Severus were handling Hogwarts. Were they pranksters like their grandfather? Did James or Albus love to fly, like I did? Did either of them inherit my parselmouth abilities? I wondered what Lily Luna looked like? Did she look more like her mother or her grandmother? I wondered about this child, the one I had just put in Ginny’s womb, would it be a little boy or girl?_

“Harry?” a feminine voice whispers hesitantly. I look up slowly, expecting to see Ginny, but my eyes widen when I see an aged Hermione Granger-Weasley. She is still undeniably Hermione, but there is something in her eyes – a coldness and bitterness. My eyes narrow. _I only have fond memories of Hermione, but I do not if she is part of this plot._

“Have you come to see the Weasley’s prisoner and prized stud? Come to taunt or torture me?” I ask bitterly.

“No,” Hermione bit out angrily, “I came to see my one and only friend, the real Harry James Potter.”

“And now you found me.” I say carefully, “What do you want?”

“Harry you were not the only one fooled by the Weasley family or trapped in a miserable prison.” Hermione claims firmly. “Although my prison was my marriage to Ronald, whereas yours is more physical. They drugged me with love potions and other mind-altering substances, I had not been myself for a long time... May I come in?”

I hesitate, for just a moment, before pushing open the massive front door. I stare out across the hidden valley which houses Potter manor. The valley is lush with wildlife, a dirt track leads deep into the forest from the side. I cannot leave the manor, even to go to the gardens. Open doors and windows are my only way to experience the outdoors, but I cannot step outside. The blood ritual repels me from passing any threshold into the outdoors. The summer sunlight filters down through the twisted branches of the trees which create a long tree-alley framing the front door to the edge of the property. Hermione steps through the doorway and her arms embrace me. I do not embrace her back, I involuntary shake at her touch. I have not been touched in a platonic and positive manner for many years. “I’m sorry, Harry.” She says pulling back and wiping her eyes.

“How did you find me?” I ask cautiously.

“I followed the redheaded bitch.” Hermione says, “Ginny Weasley is not as stealthy as she believes. I am sorry, I didn’t come sooner Harry, but I had to blackmail Ronald into a divorce. I managed to break the compulsions on me several months ago.”

“How did you manage that?” I ask in surprise.

“I was joking around in the Weasley kitchen and told your double an inside joke and he didn’t recognize it. I quickly realized it wasn’t you. The shock allowed me to overpower the compulsion.” Hermione says, we sit on the white marble steps of the staircase.

“Do you know who it is?” I ask cautiously, _the identity of my double has always troubled me_.

“It’s not human,” Hermione says in a strange tone, “It’s a subspecies of a dryad and a Leshy with unique shapeshifting capabilities. Albus and the Weasley family began growing it in Dumbledore Manor’s greenhouse in your fifth year. It’s the last of its species. Well, it was the last of its species. It has been breeding with a number of witches.”

“Then why did Ginny…” I ask softly, trailing off. _Why did Ginny force me to impregnate her? Was it just to hurt me?_

“I imagine she doesn’t want the thing to lay three avocado-sized seeds in her. The seeds become as large as ostrich eggs before the woman gives birth. The eggs then hatch two days later.” Hermione says in her patent-professor tone.

“Why would any woman want that?” I ask in horror.

Hermione blushes fiercely, “Apparently the thing is well endowed. Also, when the eggs rock inside the girls, they cause powerful orgasms.” She concludes.

“How many people know about it officially?” I ask.

“Well, there’s Ginny, Ron and Molly. Then it’s breeders, who are Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Katie Bell, Fay Dunbar, Morag McDougal, and Tracey Davis. Then there’s three Healers at St. Mungo’s and reluctantly Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt has been trying to find and rescue you, but the Weasleys have blackmail on him.” Hermione finished.  

“That’s rather disappointing,” I say. _That so many people know I am missing and have done nothing, is a stab to the heart. Furthermore, that Kingsley, the man I remember for his integrity and bravery, is being blackmailed by the Weasleys,_ is an uncomfortable revelation. _I have always thought Shacklebolt was far more honest than that._

“I know,” Hermione muttered. “Harry,” she says hesitantly, “Harry, I know you want to leave Potter manor, but don’t.” She rushes in case I cut her off, but I am too shocked to do so. “The Weasleys, they’ve been passing laws under your name. They’re very discriminatory laws. Your double has had multiple assassination attempts on him. The papers spin it off as arrests of Dark Wizards, but it’s not just dark creatures and wizards and witches. Even if we did find a way to get you out of here. No one would help you. They wouldn’t let you live long enough to explain. You’re hated by a large majority of the magical populace.” Hermione says sadly.

“What about my kids, I can’t leave them unprotected and alone.” I plead desperately.

“Your children know…” Hermione says after a moment of silence, “Well, at least James Sirius and Lily Luna do. They’ve been indoctrinated to hate you and think you were a spoiled and selfish bastard who refused to share your wealth with the family.”

“What…” I gasp, my lips moving soundlessly. “How…”

Hermione looks close to tears, “I overheard them speaking with my daughter and Molly. My own fucking daughter called me a cow.” Hermione says, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You know, Ron began dousing me with mind-altering potions in fourth year. I hate Ron. He essentially raped me and forced me to give birth to his children…I hate them all.” Hermione sobs as I gather her into my arms hesitantly. I am crying soundlessly as Hermione sobs. She is wailing as if in pain. Perhaps she is. _The Weasleys destroyed us. Hermione and I are broken and bitter people._

* * *

“That thing isn’t Harry Potter.” Draco snarls at his father from his cell. The Malfoy father and son had adjacent cells in Azkaban. Lucius had been trapped in Azkaban for the last fifteen years, but Draco has only been imprisoned for five months, “I think I’d know my own schoolyard nemesis.” Draco snarls. The cold depths of the dank prison chill Draco to the bone.

“So, our boy hero is dead and gone? Destroyed by the Light faction?” Lucius snarks back, “Now, you see why I sided with the Dark” Lucius says haughtily.

“Daddy,” Scorpius whispers, “I’m hungry.” Draco pulls his son onto his lap. Lucius looks worriedly at his son and his grandson. Draco is already halving his food to give his son more. His fair-haired son, Draco, is rail thin from the lack of substantial food, much like Lucius is. Scorpius is steadily fading away. The Dementors target the child the most. When, not if, Scorpius dies, Lucius fears for his son’s sanity. Lucius watches though the gloom as Draco cards his fingers through Scorpius’s hair in a soothing manner. The thirteen-year-old boy curls in on himself on Draco’s lap. Although, Lucius is not a demonstrative man and loves to argue with his only child, Lucius cares deeply for him.

The Greengrass girl, whom his wife had arranged to marry Draco, was not in Azkaban. Astoria Greengrass had sold the location of her husband and son for her own freedom. Lucius wishes he could rub that fact into his wife’s, Narcissa’s, face. However, the woman had killed herself before she could be placed in Azkaban. Narcissa had slit her throat in front of the Aurors and Draco. The Aurors restrained Draco and watched gleefully as Narcissa bled out. _Fuck Potter and the Light side,_ Lucius thinks, _let them all rot._ The sound of waves crashing against the rock and the moans and screams of the prisoners are Scorpius’s lullaby. No child, _no child_ should be thrown into prison for the crimes of his or her family. However, far too often, Lucius was seeing their appearance in Azkaban. It disgusts him and forces him to fight back his rage. He wants them dead for their crimes against the dark faction. Yes, he is not a good man, but he didn’t target children. They are the monsters.

* * *

“Hermione, why are you here? Don’t get me wrong, I am happy to see you again. However, I know you and I know you have a plan.” I ask the frizzy haired woman. We are still in the foyer with Hermione and me sitting at the edge of the sweeping marble staircase with the once-upon-a-time crimson runner, which I had changed to green in a passionate fit of anger. I had come to abhor the color crimson and the word Gryffindor. Gryffindor meant so many painful things to me, from my idiocy to the betrayal of the Weasleys, especially Ginny and Ron.

“I was planning on your help in researching.” Hermione says closing her eyes and relaxing into my side.

“Researching what exactly?” I ask softly.

“Something like time travel. I want us to have a second chance to change everything.” She whispers.

“And how do plan to research? The Weasleys took the Potter Libraries.” I ask.

“I may have liberated the Potter libraries in addition to a few of the Ministry’s contraband collections, including a number of Dark pureblood families’ libraries, which they had stored in the Department of Mysteries. Kingsley hasn’t reported it to anyone.” Hermione says sheepishly. 

I laugh softly, “You and your books.” I say fondly.

“Yes, me and my books. However, I think we should start with unbinding you from the manor and removing any foreign substances, charms and potions, in you. Also, we need to make the house impenetrable to the Weasleys and the Ministry of Magic.”

“What if Ginny or Molly come to check up on me again?” I ask unhappily.

“I hadn’t thought about that.” Hermione says.

“How about we make the Weasleys think they came to see me, but they really didn’t.” I say.

“How do you propose we do that?” Hermione asks.

Biting my lower lip, I answer hesitantly, “When the Weasleys were clearing out the house of books, they didn’t find a few textbooks on Basic Runes and Arithmancy. They were in the attic bedroom. I’ve been reviewing them, but they came pretty easily to me. Although, I don’t have a wand… I’ve been altering a few low-level spells.” Hermione’s eyes widen in surprise. 

“Harry, you know that spell alteration is an extremely difficult skill. I mean creating spells in much simpler. You need incredible creativity, knowledge, a skill in linguistics and brute power to alter a spell!” Hermione says.

“I didn’t know that.” I answer softly.

“Harry, how long have you been hiding your intelligence and why?” Hermione asks gnawing at her lip anxiously. 

“I am sorry, Hermione, but the Dursleys would beat me if I scored better than Dudley. Then Ron is an underachiever and a jealous prat. I swear that boy would laze about and eat all day if he could.” I murmur softly, hesitantly.

“Fucking Ron Weasley,” Hermione snarled, before visibly calming herself, “Harry, be yourself with me. You don’t need to hide anything from me. I promise I will think things over before I make a decision.” I nod slightly. “Now explain the spell to me.”

“It’s an amalgamation of the Fidelus Charm and the Muggle’s repulsion charm, the Notice-Me-Not charm. You know the charm which makes Muggles think they are needed somewhere else. However, I finetuned the Notice-Me-Not to affect Wizards and Witches, but instead of making think they’ve left on the stove or forgot to shut the garage, it influences their thoughts and emotions. For example, if Ginny needed to see me to force a bank signature, she would be compelled to choose an alternative means to get a bank signature – like forgery. Or if she wanted me to father another child, she’d find someone else to do it. It both hides me and directs attention to other people. Only a Master Occlumens would become suspicious.”

“That’s ingenious!” Hermione praises me. “Now, we also need to protect the manor while we work. Any ideas?”

“The Fidelus of course and some serious antitracking charms, but Hermione I don’t have my wand.”

“You mean this,” she says offering me the Death Stick.

“Hermione, this is the elder wand…” I say cautiously.

“I know. The Weasleys destroyed your holly wand, but the Elder Wand was in Dumbledore’s coffin.”

I chew my lip for a moment, “Okay, you graverobber. I’ll use it, but only because beggars can’t be choosers.” She snorts in amusement. I smile back at her hesitantly and take the wand into my hands. It feels like coming home.

* * *

_He hadn’t heard from his best friend, Draco, for the last year._ Blaise flips through the reports on his massive redwood desk, a strand of his dark hair falling into his eyes. His quill flew over the heavy stack of parchment as he carefully reviews the paperwork. _He had read about Draco and Scorpius’s imprisonment and cursed the gleeful face of Ronald Weasley. The redhaired bastard was the arresting officer. The same redhead had watched Narcissa Malfoy commit suicide and had laughed. Of course, the story was told to him through a dark-faction Auror sympathizer and not from the Daily Prophet. The Daily Prophet was firmly under the light-faction’s control._ Blaise rests his head in his hands. _He felt like a failure of a friend, not being there for Draco._

Blaise had been clever. As soon as the light side had won the war, he had moved to Italy. His father’s family, the Zabini family, were Italian citizens and Blaise capitalized on that. Blaise and his family had been working an underground ring to help the British dark-faction escape false charges and unlawful imprisonment. The British had warrants out for his arrest, but the Italian magical government would not hand him over. Although, the made no moves against Britain, Italy was quick to support his endeavors passively. The would not prosecute British refugees and they would not deport them back to Britain. The Italian Magical Government didn’t precisely do the heavy lifting – arranging escape routes, food, safe houses, medical treatment, and funds – but their passive help was welcomed. Unfortunately, Blaise couldn’t free those trapped in Azkaban. The prison was too heavily monitored. So, Draco and Scorpius were beyond his considerable reach. _He felt sick imagining the horrors Draco and Scorpius were suffering._  

“Signore Zabini,” calls one of his informants, “We have the Selwyn family.” Blaise turns to his compatriot, Signore Ellington, originally of Britain. The man is tall and broad shouldered with dark-brown hair and kohl-lined golden-brown eyes framed by long eyelashes. He is dressed like a former snatcher since he was once one. Of course, he had used a different name back then. He wears a black leather jacket with an outrageous amount of buckles and a red-silk tunic with black leather pants, he paints a stunning, if troubling, bad boy image. _They are all bad men, after all, doing the right thing in a world without justice or tolerance._

* * *

Hermione and I had left the foyer for the Potter wards room. We took the steep basements steps two at a time. The wards room glows an ominous black-red in the gloom of the windowless subterranean stone room. The warding room is situated in the bowels of the manor. The wards themselves stand as massive black-marble obelisks in the chamber. They are carved with innumerable runes. However, currently they are stained with my blood, making them look more like a sacrificial altar than a means of protection.

The obelisks rest on an island in the midst of dark chilly water. Using my wand, I ignite the glass scones which illuminate the room with blue flames. I grip Hermione’s hand carefully as I step out over the water. A flat slate slab levitates out of the water, supporting my way over to the island. Hermione is brought along, despite not being of Potter blood, through our entwined hands. As I reach the center, the obelisk surrounding me, a shadow lengthens becoming a shadowy manacle and chain around my ankle. Hermione stares at the shackle in shock. “Fucking bitches,” she swears, hovering over the black manacle on my ankle. “They bound your magic to the house. They turned the wards against you.”

“I know,” I whisper, “Any thoughts on how to unbind me and have me remaster the wards?”

Hermione draws her wand. She quickly blasts a hole through one of the obelisks. The chamber shakes. “We destroy them first and then remake them.” She instructs me, “Prepare your charm quickly. We need to do this before they realize anything is wrong.” I quickly begin etching out the runes in air, prepared to brand them into the stone, which Hermione will create. Hermione pulls out a second wand, to my shock, and as she blasts the old wards to pieces, she uses her other wand to reconstruct new ones. The new obelisks are made of shungite stone and black obsidian, carefully blended with black tourmaline stone. The obelisks are encrusted with malachite, bloodstone, garnet, citrine, and jade, which were held in place by silver shaped into blossoming water lilies, foxglove and azaleas on tiny vines. As the last Obelisk sprouts from the waters, I release the long line of runes I have created onto the stones.

The ward room shudders as my wards take, for a moment I worry that the room will crumble beneath the strain of the potent magic. The room quick settles and the wards blossom over the manor and the hidden valley. I feel them settle in my core. The new wards banish the sinister purposes of the old wards. The slowly fading shackle on my ankle abruptly shatters.

“Hermione how long will your conjured stone last?” I ask, worriedly. 

“Harry, I dabbled in alchemy. Those stones aren’t conjured, they were recreated.” I look at her in surprise, she smiles smugly, “You weren’t the only one dabbling in a new magic, during all these years.”

* * *

Her memories of the Weasley family haunted her. She was certain that her former husband, William, had no knowledge of his family’s duplicity, but she couldn’t be certain. It was because of this uncertainty that she divorced him and fled back to France, before the papers were signed. She had remarried, becoming Madame Fleur Beaufort nee Delacour. She and her husband, Clarence Beaufort, were well matched by her father. They had conceived five little ones, where she and Bill had none. Fleur was a happy Mama of three little boys and two girls. Her children were cherished and spoiled equally in their home.

However, those memories still featured in her nightmares. The Weasley matriarch and her youngest son and only daughter, had been planning on declaring her marriage to Bill as illegitimate because of her creature blood. They had then prepared to use her a bloody broodmare for their family. They had been whispering about it, in her very own kitchen in Shell Cottage, while she went to fetch something from the attic. Ronald’s lewd comments and sexual-insinuations about her body and their potential offspring had horrified her. Recent legislations passed would have allowed for this if they could prove that she had used her “dark creature magic” to control Bill. While, she had never used her allure on Bill, the Weasley matriarch’s testimony would be held higher than her own claims. Truth serum was no longer permissible for use in the courts, that was the first amendment passed under the Weasley family’s name. Additionally, the recent legislations passed in Britain were making it rather difficult for those with creature bloods to survive in the country. They could barely feed themselves, let alone their families. If they attempted to flee from Britain and were caught in the act, they were immediately thrown into the Creature Camps, no trials necessary.

The camps were disgusting examples of human cruelty. They were comparable to the Nazi’s camp, Auschwitz. They had even installed gas chambers for those who fought back or tried to escape. The men, women, and children mined precious metals and magical stones for the human populace, leaving their hands bloodied and mutilated by their work. The beautiful female hybrids were bred by powerful wizards to create a secondary-class worker, much like the Lost Generation of Aborigines in Australia. It was inhumane and disgusting. 

Fleur feared that she could very well have been a breeder, lying on her back day in and day out as her belly swelled with unwanted life. Her children then forced into a menial class and worked like house elves. The girls, when old enough, also taken as breeders, for the humans. House elves were now considered dark creatures and were almost extinct. The menial class of those with creature bloods, had now replaced House elves. The very idea of the British breeding programs made her nauseated. 

“Mama?” Claire laughs, toddling toward Fleur in the family’s atrium. Fleur laughs scooping up the toddler in her arms.

_Yes, she was glad she had left Britain behind her._

* * *

Bill was lost, in a metaphorical sense. He had no purpose, no drive and no interest. His work with the British Goblins had ended when the Wizarding World’s former bankers were rounded up and placed in the Creature Camps. Many goblins died in the procedure. They were tortured and mutilated by zealous Aurors for entertainment. All of this, all of these injustices had been committed under the Potter-Weasley name. At first, he believed that these atrocities were commit by Potter. That the Weasley name was just attached to the deed for more political reasons. He remembered his anger when, _sneaking into his sister’s and her husbands’ bedroom, wand prepared, aiming to strike down the man responsible for dragging the Weasley name through the mud. He had been hidden under an invisibility cloak. They’d been fucking, but then the man he thought as his brother-in-law was pushed off the bed by Ginny._

_“I hate it when you look like him.” Ginny snarls “If I am fucking you, I want to fuck you and not him.”_

_“I have to help Ron train the new Aurors,” Potter says calmly, “in about thirty minutes.”_

_“I’ll get you off the hook with Ron,” Ginny says. “Now change back and fuck me, but don’t lay anything in me.” Potter’s features begin to melt away revealing a stunning creature. He has pale skin, the color and texture of dogwood tree bark. His eyes are a luminous green and take up more than half his face, which is not anatomically correct for a human. He is tall, taller than Potter, taller than Ron and still taller than Bill, with considerably broad shoulders. His lips are the color of poisonous berries and his nose is small. His fingers are long and slender. Instead of wiry and dark body hair or messy ebony locks, he has snowy-white dandelion-fluff. Hanging between his legs is the biggest cock Bill has ever seen, he quickly tears his eyes away from the creature’s bits. Ginny spread her legs in whorish fashion, making Bill mentally gag. The creature quickly mounts her. “You’re a better fuck than Potter.” She moans as he thrusts in powerfully. “Good thing we did away with him.”_

Bill always feels sick after remembering his sister’s words. Harry James Potter is dead, killed to further the Weasley agenda. The only Weasleys, who Bill is involved with now are Charlie and George. Percy and Fred are dead. Their father is not entirely sane anymore and their mother is certifiably batty. Bill doesn’t consider Ron or Ginny his siblings. Bill cannot find a future for himself, even after having escaped to Romania to live with Charlie. Bill only finds peace at the bottom of a fire whiskey bottle.

* * *

After recreating the wards, and naming me as the secret keeper, Hermione and I each select a room and settle in for the night. I chose the smallest bedroom in the house, namely because if I wake disoriented it will allow me to realize that something is different than the many nights before. I usually sleep in the master bedroom, but I feel vulnerable and disgusted with the memories associated with the room now. I stare at the ceiling of the smallest bedroom, which reflects the stars above Potter manor, as I think about the next step. My thoughts are jumbled and disjointed as I finally succumb to sleep.

I wake with a start. The sun is shining through the old wooden shuttered, painted white, which replace the elegant curtains of the other rooms. I sigh, climbing out of full-sized bed and heading for the shower. First though, I dig through the wardrobe for something to wear, conveniently forgetting that I have yet to move my clothes into this wardrobe, and stare for a moment at the neat line of brown lederhosen. Snorting at my idiocy, I quietly make my way to the master bedroom to collect my belongings. Under the considerable pile of clothes and a few knickknacks, I return to my new bedroom and quickly pick out an outfit before entering the bathroom to shower and dress. The bathroom is small and is decorate with blue tile. There is not bath, but the shower cubicle is perfect and had three water nozzles. I shower quickly and dress.

Hermione is in the kitchen. She’s reading from a notebook filled with detailed notes in, what is unmistakably, her own hand.  “Good morning Hermione.” I say pouring tea into two cups. She seems to have forgotten her own tea in favor of reviewing her notes. She jumps in surprise. Her wand is pointed at me and I smile at her in bemusement as she looks at me owlishly. “Oh, sorry Harry.” She apologizes quickly tucking her wand away. I place the teacups down on the table before pulling out the chair and taking a seat. She smiles at me hesitantly as I head back into the kitchen to pull out some breakfast food. “So how are we going to manage getting food for the manor?” She asks aloud.

“The ice box is connected to grocer, I just altered the runes on it for protection when we altered the wards.” I say.

“Oh, you really did think this over.” Hermione says with a smile. “I’m so used to you pulling off those hairbrained schemes.”

I smile softly, “Well, after everything was said and done, I realized I need to rely more on my Slytherin side.”

She nods empathetically, “And my Ravenclaw side.”

“So, what precisely are we planning to research?” I ask as I place breakfast on the table.

“Well, magical researchers claim the possibility of alternative universes.” Hermione begins, “Now, through my research with both muggle science, magical and muggle theology, and magical theory I have discovered that alternative universes are created through the action and inaction of key individuals that splits alternative universes into existence.  For example, in one universe Albus Dumbledore joined Grindelwald opposed to capturing him. That changes the entire timeline.”

“So, you want to travel to an alternative universe?” I ask carefully.

“No, I want to create one.” Hermione says.

* * *

Luna Lovegood studies the creature who has replaced her brother in all, but blood, from behind an older issue of the Quibbler. To her eyes, the façade of “Harry Potter” melts away revealing the true form of the Leshy and Dryad subspecies. She had promised Hermione to keep an eye out on the false Potter and the deplorable redheaded menaces. She knows she makes the creature twitchy, she takes perverse pleasure in doing so. The false Potter drops his load of coffee all over the redhead traitor as the elevator closes. She knows they will get into a massive row, per usual when the false Potter fumbles. “You know, as much as it amuses me, you need to stop doing that.” The Minister, Minister Shacklebolt, says from behind her. “They’re becoming suspicious.”

Luna smiles up at Kingsley, “I imagine the Humperdincks are congregating as we speak.”

Shacklebolt studies the blonde enigma for a long moment, “If they are congregating doesn’t that put you in harm’s way?”

“It won’t be long now until the lightning bolt and the former beaver’s plot takes hold, and everything will change. Excuse me, I have a scarlet female Humperdinck to annoy during lunch. It invited me for appearances in front of the paper prophet.”

“Lunch with Ginny Potter-Weasley, good luck.” Kingsley says after a moment.

* * *

**_Two months later_** , I am seated in the Potter library, which is now overflowing with books. Hermione had divided them on subject, then by her own system she calls “Grade Level”. I asked her what “Grade Level” meant and she had, blushingly, told me that she had recreated the Hogwarts education to fit a higher standard. She had never shared that information with the redhaired traitors, only Minerva. Headmistress Minerva McGonagall not only ran the school but fought tooth and nail against the Weasley-Potter policies. An example is a currently debated legislative bill, which would deny a wand to any student sorted into Slytherin. Minerva secretly worked alongside an underground group who assisted dark-inclined individuals and pureblood families to escape Britain. The majority escaped during their seventh year, transferring abroad. Minerva had the knowledge from Dumbledore’s old paperwork to forge travel documents and passports. While, Minerva didn’t know the identity of the Harry Potter imposter, she had her suspicions according to Hermione.

I am reading through Hermione’s standard curriculum as quickly as I can. Due to my photographic memory, it is a quick and simple task. Hermione had hit me over the head with a heavy Runes textbook, and cursed up a storm at Dumbledore and the Weasleys when I hesitantly revealed that they had bound my photographic memory. She was outraged. It is quite funny, how quickly we fell into a pattern of researching and studying. If anyone were in the manor with us, they’d say we’d developed our own language for researching. I was also making progress on my Muggle education, already studying for my A levels. We took breaks on Saturdays after performing the rite. Hermione has plied me with a mountain of books on Muggle and Magic theology. The Saturday rite reaffirmed our loyalty and devotion to our sworn deities.

Hermione, who was half-Greek through her mother, was sworn to the Greek Parthenon, specifically to Athena, Goddess of Wisdom and Military Victory, to Charon, the Ferrier of Souls, to Hecate, Goddess of Magic and Mysticism, to Erebus, the God of Shade, Shadow and Obscuring Darkness, to Artemis, the Virginal Goddess of the Wilderness and the Hunt, who reputed men, and to Nyx, the Goddess of Night. Hermione was not a Light Witch, not any longer. Not after what we had been through.

My mother’s family originated from Ireland, while my father’s family from Wales. I had chosen the Celtic Parthenon. My sworn deities were the Morrigan, the triple goddess represented by the maiden, the mother, and by the death crone. I was also sworn to Lugh, the God who knows all Arts, to Arawn, god of the Celtic otherworld and of terror, revenge and war, to Gwydion, the Magician and Warrior God, to Scathach, Goddess of Healing, Magic, fighting arts and prophecy, known as the Shadowy One, and to Don, Welsh goddess of the Heavens, the air and Sea and ruler of the Dead.

I had chosen my deities and pledged my devotion, and like Hermione, I received their blessings and claim in the form of tattoos across the soles of my feet and winding around my ankles. Hermione’s tattoos were situated around her upper thighs and across her breasts – not that I needed to know that, albeit I was an idiot for asking something I later learned was private

Saturdays, after the rite, usually found us in the kitchen cooking and trading stories. We shared fond memories of our school years, shying away from the Weasleys and Dumbledore and their betrayals. We are progressing quickly on our plot to create an alternative timeline, although, I have been regulated to the Runes and Arithmancy portion of our research. Hermione challenges me to create a spell or alter an existing one, describing a result. I do not question her, knowing she will share it eventually. To this date, I have only failed to create one spell, which she challenged me with.

* * *

“Careful, Rubeus.” Filius Flitwick instructs gently. He sighs as the enormous man slips on the outdoor stair. “Oh, Rubeus.” Filius say slipping out to his assist the larger man. Filius finds the gentle half-giant sitting on a punctured pumpkin staring out across the horizon. The mountainous landscape is unfamiliar to him.

“Where am I?” Rubeus mumbles. “Professor, where are we?” He asks turning one eye on the old half-goblin. The other eye is clouded and unfocused. Filius sighs, placing his hand atop the man’s head and running his hand through his hair soothingly.

“We’re on holiday, Rubeus. We’ll be home soon, you’ll see.” Filius lies. He doesn’t have the heart to tell his former student that they will never be returning to Hogwarts, while the man is stuck in one of his fits. They had barely escaped Britain, after all. Rubeus had sacrificed his left eye and sanity to help Filius escape the creature camps. Filius had refused to abandon the gentle half-giant and now cared for the big man near the Austrian alps. Together, they minded a small dairy farm. Rubeus often thought he was still that eleven years old boy he once was. Filius believed it was Rubeus’s mind’s way of coping.

“Oh, that’s good.” Hagrid says and begins humming to himself, idly tying a long grass stem into knots with his dexterous fingers. He’s still sitting on the poor pumpkin on the front lawn. Filius reenters the kitchen and using his new wand, begins preparing the crust for a pumpkin pie. They would make do, as they always did… even in the darkest of times.

* * *

When Bill had told him about what Ginny, Ronald and their Mother had done, Charlie hadn’t wanted to believe it. Bill had cautioned him against confronting them, told him to be careful in seeking out his answers. Charlie had reluctantly done so. His big brother had lent him an invisibility cloak given to Bill by the goblins. Returning home to the Dragon Reserve after his misadventure, Charlie had puked all over the carpet in front of the floo.

However, unlike Bill, who was content to waste away, searching for peace at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, Charlie was determined to fight back. Charlie worked alongside Headmistress McGonagall to smuggle more than half of the former Slytherins to safety. The Dragon Reserve became a cover for sneaking families and children over the border into Romania. They would sneakily employ the Slytherin students and when their work visas expired, no one on the Dragon reserve reported it. Likeminded Hufflepuff students and Ravenclaw students joined in the effort, creating a massive front of employing from the Slytherin house and sneaking their employees to safety abroad. Gryffindor became a synonymous term for bigot and traitor to magic. Few Gryffindors fought to save the former Dark faction or newly discovered dark-inclined. Charlie would be later quoted as having said that _“he’d rather die trying to save victims of this injustice than sitting at home doing nothing for them”_ , in one memorable row with Bill. Bill was both proud of his brave, brave little brother, but he also mourned Charlie’s impending death.   

“Bill, we received a letter.” Charlie called, “It’s from Hermione. I recognize her handwriting.” After having divorced Ron, Hermione had confided in them – she didn’t believe that Harry was dead. Charlie kind of hoped he was, his sister and her children could be manipulative shits. The letter was addressed quite humorously making Charlie snort with laughter. 

 

**Charlie Dragon-tamer**

**and Bill Wards-wright**

**Dearest Brothers,**

 

_I found him! He was being held prisoner in his Ancestral Manor, the wards and his own magic were used to imprison him. We’ve reversed the method and have created a means to protect ourselves. We are working on a plot to save everyone, but not as you might assume. It involves a rather complicated piece of magic, I am hesitant to call it time travel. He told me to tell you, “Blood does not make family, you can choose family too.” He instructs me to say, “Charlie, don’t get eaten by Dragons until you fulfil your promise to him.” What did you promise him, you muscle head? I have never seen him blush this fucking much! He also tells me to inform Bill, “I am sorry for the pain you’re experiencing. Life is not fair. You have your brothers still. You have two good legs, so get up. Start walking and don’t mope around. I know you are Bill! Don’t argue with me. Bill be true to yourself. Live freely for me, when I cannot – not after my name and face had been used to promote these injustices. Live, Bill and fly.” I really don’t know what he is referring too? I don’t believe your broom fanatic like him and Charlie? Are you? I always thought you were the more sensible one!_

 

**With much Love,**

**Your sister,**

**_Hermione_ **

 

“No, Hermione,” Bill laughed as he read the letter over Charlie’s shoulder, “I am an Owl Animagus.”

“Since when?” Charlie asks, grinning as he turns to face his older brother. _He hadn’t heard his brother sound so alive for the last seven months. He hadn’t heard his older brother laugh without hysterically crying for ten months. He wanted to go kiss Hermione and Harry now! Charlie could see his brother emerging from his agonizing cocoon with this letter._ “And why didn’t you tell me? How does Harry know?” Charlie ask pouting a little. Bill chuckles blushing a little.

“I’m an embarrassingly _tiny_ owl. Harry surprised me, and I freaked out and pop, I was in my Animagus form.”

“How did he freak you out?” Charlie asks, looking for blackmail.

“I was changing clothes, and he walked in and complimented my bum when he was half asleep. We were both so fucking embarrassed. He was then completely enamored with my Animagus form, kept trying to persuade me to be his Post owl and jump out at people when they got their mail.” Charlie stared incredulously at Bill, before bursting out laughing. “Okay, spill what did you promise him that made him blush so much?” Bill asks grinning.

Charlie grimaces, “Err, I was drunk. Also, I fancied him quite a bit for a rather long time. So, before his wedding night, I was completely sloshed and offered to give him a good time. Promised him I’d be the best he had. He turned me down, since, well… he was getting married.” Charlie swallowed uncomfortably, “I felt like such a berk the next morning, I couldn’t face him. I left after the wedding and barely visited since.” Charlie looked vaguely miserable.

“I imagine that Harry quite liked you too before Ginny got her claws in him. You have no idea how often I saw him admiring your bum and muscles. Poor lad was drooling, I swear.” Bill said smiling softly. “Well, it’s late. I am heading to bed. Can I shovel some dragon dung tomorrow? I think I need the work out.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Hey, don’t think you are getting off now showing me your owl form!” Charlie shouts after him.

* * *

**Two Months Later.** The cool autumn breeze tugs at Hermione’s notes and my research as we sit on the veranda. “So essentially our ritual is part muggle sciences, part ritualistic magic and part magical theology?” I ask dubiously, “Please explain it to me one more time.” Hermione rolls her eyes, looking up at the sky through the glass roof of the garden pergola, as if seeking patience.

“To begin, imagine a tree, specifically the Celtic Tree of Life. Now the base, the trunk, was the original universe, but branches began to sprout, the branches and roots began to grow through every key individual’s actions or inactions. Each new branch, each new twig, is a division of a new universe, a different timeline.”

“Okay, I am with you so far. This is based on the Yggdrasil Theory?” I ask.

“Yes! Okay, imagine the space between these branches, filled with powerful energies, a wall or barrier between timelines or alternative universes if you want. If everything is made of atoms, then so is this barrier. Now Ernest Rutherford worked to split an atom. He did so in 1917. However, we don’t want to cause an explosion or in this case an implosion of the tree. That is where the Ritualistic Magic you created and an energy which I call Divine Energy comes into play. We use a sacrifice as a conductor of Divine Energy in the Ritual which you named “The Entreaty”. The conductor, or the sacrifice will allow us to use the energy without being harmed Divine Magic. The Sacrifice with disintegrate in moments, containing the explosion in itself.”

“What are we using as the sacrifice?” I ask carefully. She holds up several AA batteries.

“A muggle battery?” I deadpan.

“Not just a Muggle batter, it’s been fed a magical current.” Hermione says.

“Alright. How much longer until we do this? I mean we need a full moon for the ritual to activate.”

“Five days.” Hermione answers, smiling.

* * *

Ginny ran her hand over the swell of her belly. She was four months along and quite large. The healer said she was having twins, a little boy and a little girl. She smiled like the cat who had got the canary. Her hands slipped across her protruding belly as she thought of Harry pleading to see his kids. She took pleasure in his desperation and fear. Logically there was no reason to take pleasure in his anguish, he had never wronged her, but she’d grown up in poverty. She liked to strike at all those good for nothing purebloods and half-bloods with their good breeding, wealth and large homes. Now, now she was the one with the wealth, the power and the prestige. She had everything she wanted. She loved to watch their jealousy and despair.

Her hand trails lower on her naked belly, just below the distention of her abdomen. Her fingers sink into her sex and she pleasured herself. Her memories turn to Harry pleasuring her in hopes of seeing his children, eyes filled with unshed tears. Children whom she had raised to hate him. A smirk curls the corner of her lips as she brushes her fingers firmly at her clitoris. She reaches her climax, head thrown back in a wanton moan, as she imagines Harry’s desperation if he ever learned the truth.

* * *

We stood at opposite poles on the ritualistic circle painted in our blood on the floor of the Potter Manor basement. Magic whirls fiercely around us like a miniature tornado. Our voices resonate throughout the house as we chant. As the magic rushes in me and through me, the ceiling seems to open up into darkness. The darkness glows a daunting blue-black, eerie and yet compelling. Something changes and then… something unexpected happens, it becomes hard to breathe. As I am prepared to reach for the batteries to throw them from the circle and break the ritual. Hermione yells over the vacuum. “I am sorry Harry, but this is the only way.” I turn horrified eyes on her as she raises a wicked dagger and plunges it downwards… into her own chest.

“NO! Hermione!” I scream heartbroken, reaching for her, but before my fingers touch her she dissolves into dust.

“I am sorry Harry, you need this. As strong as I pretend to be, I am truly broken.” A golden figure says materializing behind me. I spin around, shocked and taking in her softly golden-glowing ethereal face. “I will always be with you!” She pressed a finger to my forehead, “I will always be your friend.” And darkness consumes me. 

* * *

**To Be Continued**

 

Was the "Introduction" any good? Was it too rushed? Should I rewrite it?

What do you guys think about my creation - the Subspecies of Leshy and Dryad?

Any ideas for me to improve the story?

Anything you desperately want to see in this story?

_Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a Review on your Way Out!_

 


	2. Altered Fate and Changes Foretold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Chapter! Harry discovers the new timeline, where Tom Riddle is not a Dark Lord and the Sidhe King of the Goblins is good to snuggle with! Mentioned Non-Consensual Relationship (NOT Graphic). Evil Dumbledore, Molly and Dursley bashing. Mentions of Child abuse - physical and verbal. Please Enjoy!

#  **Once Upon a Time Turner**

**_Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series_ **

**Explicit Adult Content – _Read at your Own discretion_**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

_Additional Illustrations by_ No One Currently – Looking for Artists

_Edited and Proofread by_ BluC1026

**_Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors_ **

* * *

**(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling’s Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beedle the Bard (book), Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (script), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their respective creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

**Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

* * *

 

_“Born not of my womb, but to my name and my blood, rise eth the Greatest Black Lord to ever be seen. Neither light nor dark, but gray. He will be raised on the knees of Twilight. Born to the cousin of Black blood, through the ancestral lines of Peverell and Gryffindor, and in womb of the hidden Grimm, born to Ravenclaw bloodline. Born of Death at hands of a Muggle Abuser. Recreated in spirit and by aura. Adopted by the former Lord Black, by my blood, and by the blood of the Lord Twilight. Again, and again this child shall fight for peace. Allied to Twilight and Nightfall, to the then heirs of Light and Dark, blessed by Daybreak, he will rise as the last bastion of both Dark and Light magics. Welcome, he does not by color of magic, but by intention and moral creed.”_ ~ **_Cassiopeia Black_ (1976)** (About Antares Black, to Arcturus Black, Melania McMillan, Orion Black and Walburga Black)   

**Chapter One:**

Altered Fate and Changes Foretold

 

_Whispers wanting, always seeking_

_Something more than what they have_

_Churning darkness, ever seeping_

_Spilling into the world of Man_

A soft touch, like the touch of a mother, wakes me. I stir, turning onto my side, before hitting the edge of my small cot and falling off. I breathe in dust and began to cough violently. The sound of the telly increases as Vernon turns up the volume. Through the blinding pain, I look around myself. I am back in the cupboard under the stairs. A few spiders skitter away from me. I sit up slowly, assessing my physical condition. I cringe when I felt along my left wrist – likely broken. My left ankle is swollen, and I feel a bruise of the left side of my jaw. I try to remember the point in my life when I had broken my wrist and sprained my ankle. Ah, Dudley had pushed me down the stairs when I was six-years-old, the Dursleys had kept me in the cupboard until the bruises fade before putting me back to work. It was early June 1986. The ring of the phone startles me.

The sound of footsteps which pass my cupboard are soft and light – Aunt Petunia. She picks up the phone on the third ring. “Hello, Dursley residence.” She says in a nasally voice. “Yes, Miss Figg, this is Petunia. Oh, you won a trip to Madrid, Spain, congratulations!” She says, her tone of voice tells me that she is anything but happy, “You can’t take the boy this summer? What about our Seaside Holiday in late June? Find someone else? When will you be leaving? In three days! Alright, I understand. Have a good Holiday.” Petunia concludes hanging up the phone.

_I don’t remember Ms. Figg taking a Holiday during any Summer, while I was growing up._ “That damn bitch,” Petunia swore. She kicks the door of my cupboard spitefully as she passes, causing me to jump. “Vernon, Miss Figg won a vacation to Madrid. She can’t take the freak in at any point this summer.”

“What!?” Vernon asks incredulously, “But we have our yearly Seaside Holiday in late June for Dudley!”

“She told us to find someone else.” Petunia says scoffing.

“What about your friend Yvonne?” Vernon asks quickly.

“She’s on Holiday in Italy, visiting her distant cousin.” Petunia says.

“Well, we could always drop him off at an Orphanage?” Vernon says. “We’ve never wanted him.”

“Too much paperwork and we would stop receiving the money from that Potter’s account.” Petunia says dismissively.

“We could just leave him in the shed.” Vernon offers.

“What would the neighbors say if they saw him?” Petunia asks, horrified.

“Well, he could stay in the shed.” Vernon says. “I mean a broken leg would be enough persuasion to stay in there.”

“Possibly,” Petunia says.

_I never remember the Dursleys being this cold and cruel. Would they really leave me in the tiny garden shed with a broken leg?_ I wonder. A plan began to form in my mind. _Harry Potter needed to disappear. What better timing than when Ms. Figg left?_  

Four days pass in a blur of activity and pain. I mostly spend the time trying not to aggravate my wrist as I tend to the backyard garden under Aunt Petunia’s watchful eyes. I was given a number of chores over those four days, which were physically impossible with my wrist and ankle. When I couldn’t complete them, Petunia took great pleasure in denying me food, while Vernon lashed me with his belt. My back is tender and bruised. There are welts and there are thin lines of blood. Petunia has me clean up the blood drops on the floor by moping the kitchen floor with bleach. Her means of disinfecting my bloodied back is to pour the remaining bleach down it. I bite through my lip stifling my screams.

On the fourth night, Vernon throws me into the cupboard and locks the door. In the darkness of the musty cupboard, I finally prepare to leave. The evening passes quickly into night. The Dursleys have gone to bed. Vernon’s snores reverberate through the house, accompanied by Dudley’s sleepy rumbling.

I gather my magic and trace runes into the air. They glow like the fire which Voldemort used to reveal his birth name to me in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. However, my fire glows a deep gold-white opposed to Voldemort’s golden-scarlet, my lips twitch at the irony. The runes sink into the door of the cupboard, unlocking it. Runic magic can’t be traced by the Ministry of Magic, or by Dumbledore, when it went unused by a wand or was not carved into an object. It is one of the few things I can do wandlessly right now. Hermione and I had worked to expand my wandless magic capabilities, but this is as far we had gotten. The Ministry of Magic can only pick up large bursts of accidental magic. Smaller bursts don’t register. They cannot actively monitor a witch or wizard until they receive their first wands, and not when the witch or wizard is under elaborate wards found in pureblood homes and at Hogwarts.

I step out of the cupboard and immediately relock the door to my personal prison, the cupboard under the stairs. I slip out of the house and into the dark summer night, setting off at a jog to catch the train to London. Making my way to the train station, I find that the trains are still running but that this one will be the last one tonight from Surrey into the City. The starry sky stretches overhead with the sounds of crickets, frogs and cicadas creating a nocturnal lullaby. The sidewalk is damp from the light rain which had fallen on Surrey only an hour before. As soon as I reach the empty, murky and dark train platform, I begin to weave a spell through fiery runes hanging in the air. The spell I am writing out in runes takes affect the moment the train doors open. Its occupants ignore me as I slip aboard and take as seat on the cold plastic bench. I rest my head against the window, watching the lights of suburbs fly past.

It takes three trains for me to reach Charring Cross, and an hour to walk to the Leaky Cauldron on foot. By the time I reach the Leaky Cauldron I am covered in sweat and feeling quite faint. It took me sheer stubbornness and determination to reach my destination. I recast the spell from the train and twist it to affect the wizards and witches in the pub as I slip through the door. Several patrons of the pub look up, along with the barkeep, Tom, when the door swings open. However, they quickly turn away when my spell triggers the reaction. I make my way to the back of the bar unimpeded and tap the three bricks over the trash bin and the archway opens in its usual dramatic fashion. I release the runic-spell, but I keep my head down as to not draw attention.

The white marble building of Gringotts looms over me in the gloom of the late night as I make my way quickly to the doors that are still open. Gringotts never sleeps. _Always moving, always working, always busy._ I make my way up the steps and into the cavernous entrance hall. The teller’s booths are mostly emptied at this late hour, but there are three goblins at their stations. There are no other customers. They look up in surprise at my entrance. I stagger forward, blood loss is making my head spin. “I am requesting Sanctuary,” I whisper-shout before fainting, falling. Warm arms catch me before I hit the ground. Then darkness. My memories embrace me, and even unconscious tears flow down my cheeks.

* * *

**June 14, 1986 – 7:31 am**

**_Malfoy Chateau_ **

**Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales**

               

Near the village of Blaenau Ffestiniog, Wales, in a hidden valley, stands Malfoy Chateau. The Malfoy Chateau is fashioned after the Chateau de Chenonceau and is situated over a small stream with rocky bed. Albino Peacocks populated the weather-controlled land. Flowering vines and gardens bloom even in the dead of winter. Goldfinches flock to the black poplar trees along the riverbank. A sulk of fox kits frolic in a small forest-meadow of tall grasses. Cicadas thrum and frogs croak in the early morning.   

The children of the Malfoy bloodline were all well versed in the arts of deception. Their ancestors had been spies for the French crown, after all. So, when Draco Malfoy and his twin brother, Scorpius Malfoy, were called to their Uncle’s study, the six-year-old fraternal twins were in for a shock.

Uncle Claudius is their father’s younger fraternal twin brother. Scorpius reaches the study door first and knocks on it softly, hesitantly, as Draco follows. “Come in,” came the gentle voice of their Uncle Claudius. Scorpius hesitantly opens the door, turning the golden door knob while glancing back over his shoulder at Draco. Scorpius is followed in through the door by his older twin brother. Uncle Claudius’s study is fashioned out of dark woods, towering bookcases, pale-green silk curtains over floor-to-ceiling windows and a plush forest-green carpet over the dark wood floor. Seated behind the massive four-footed desk is their Uncle. Uncle Claudius is a handsome man with shoulder-length silver-white blond hair. As Draco and Scorpius enter, Claudius lifts his mercury eyes flecked with cobalt-blue specks. His eyes are framed by long eyelashes and thin expressive eyebrows. The tall man tall with his broad-shoulders and thick corded muscles, gestures for Draco and Scorpius to enter. Claudius has a strong and square aristocratic visage. Seated alongside Claudius, behind a massive four-clawed desk, is their father, Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius has narrower and sharper features than his brother but shares the same square jaw as Claudius. His silver-white hair reaches just past his waist and is neatly trimmed and held back by a green ribbon. Long bangs frame the man’s face, softening chiseled high cheekbones and a sharp nose. Lucius is a stern man, all poise and cunning, to Draco and Scorpius he lacks the soft edges of Uncle Claudius. Lucius’s full and soft petal-pink lips quirk into a small smile at Draco and Scorpius. He is tall and broad shouldered with thin wiry muscles. While Lucius’s skin is snowy-white, his brother has a pale peach-and-cream complexion. Where Claudius has long and thick fingers, Lucius’s has thin and delicate fingers like those of a skilled pianist. The two brothers are both contrasting and complimentary to each other. Lucius is considered a cold and serious man, few have seen him act otherwise. Meanwhile, Claudius is passionate, compassionate and has a fiery temper when angered. _Ice and fire._ When Lucius is angered, he has a cold and vicious temperament. _Neither is better than the other, each is simply who they are._   

On the furniture in front of the desk are Draco and Scorpius’s older siblings. The twelve-years-old heir, Odysseus Malfoy, and his younger twin sister, Ophelia Malfoy, sit on the couch. There is, also, ten-years-old Oleander Malfoy, their second oldest brother, who is seated in an armchair. Their mother, Narcissa, lounges on the loveseat. The two empty seats are wing-backed chairs across from the desk. Draco and Scorpius take the open seats nervously.

“Draco, Scorpius,” Claudius greets, “I believe it is time for Lucius and me, to tell you the family’s greatest secret.”  Lucius nods in agreement. The twins visibly straighten as Claudius begins. “Now, I will tell you a little about our history to establish a timeline. As you know, Lucius is my older twin brother. Lucius was born to our father, Abraxas Malfoy, and our mother, Celeste Malfoy nee Beaufort, on May 11, 1950 at precisely 11:55pm. Then I was born on May 12, 1950, only ten minutes later. It was immediately discovered at Lucius’s birth that he has a prominent creature inheritance which would become evident on his seventeenth birthday. Our father feared for Lucius, because of the Ministry’s interest in those who have Creature Inheritances. The Ministry was attempting to pass laws restricting Creature rights. So, father created a cunning plot. I would be portrayed as the Heir to the Malfoy Lordship, while Lucius was truly the Malfoy Heir. Years went by, and Lucius and I went to Hogwarts. We played our roles meticulously, never alluding to which of us was Heir Malfoy. Then we graduated from Hogwarts and the Ministry requested my allegiance as a presumed member of the Wizengamott. I was sworn to the Ministry through blackmail. They had put so much energy into gaining my allegiance, that they had forgotten my brother. Minister Fudge and Dolores Umbridge, then requested funds and I had the dubious fortune of informing them that my brother, Lord Malfoy, had sworn Allegiance to the Lord of Twilight. Umbridge was enraged and attempted to punished me, but ultimately she could do nothing.” Claudius says.

“As you know, once an individual swear allegiance to a Lord or Lady, whether it be the Lord of Darkness, the Lord of Light, the Lord of Twilight, the Lady of Daybreak or the Lord of Nightfall, they cannot be forced to change allegiances.” Lucius interrupts, “So, I swore myself to the Lord of Twilight for both protection and because his ideals were compelling and beneficial to our family.”

“So, Lucius and the Malfoy name are protected. I became a spy in the Ministry’s Unspeakable Department. However, Lucius and I belatedly realized that if either of us died the Malfoy bloodline would end. Lucius cannot conceive with anyone other than his mates. So, I married your lovely mother and conceived with her each of you. Lucius pretends to be your father for your protection from the Ministry and from other nefarious plots.”

“To protect our secrets, you both will be trained by Severus in Occlumency, beginning immediately.” Lucius says softly.

“I have also arranged for additional tutors.” Claudius offers.

“Yes, father,” Scorpius and Draco chorus hesitantly. Claudius beams at them and it’s like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. Their father’s smile is radiant. It makes Draco and Scorpius longing to see it again and bask in it. 

* * *

I wake slowly, steadily. My left wrist does not throb with pain and I can rotate my left ankle without any problems. The pain in my back is muted, distant. Someone’s arms cradle me to their chest, holding me gently as if I were something precious. I slowly open my eyes and glance up at the face of the person holding me. He is a stunning man, no, I decide noting his pointed ears, he is a stunning sidhe. He is stranger though and I begin to struggle in his arms trying to space between us. His arms tightening around me, “Careful, child. You’ll hurt yourself.” I still in his arms wearily. I am not use to the gentleness with which he holds me or his concerned gaze. His Pale-gold hair frames his face in a feathery mess of spikes. His face is composed of sharp angles and is entirely too catlike to be human. His catlike eyes are a smoky-gray-blue flecked with silver specks like constellations in the night sky. He lifts one hand colored a pale-gold, which is as flawless as newly fallen snow. He carries himself with a refined elegance which is reflected in his clothes. Thin, but sensual lips quirk into a smile at my inspection. “Hello little one, I am King Jareth, Sidhe King of the Goblins.” He says, I struggle to stand to bow to him, but he tightens his grip, “Not, yet little one, you’re still too weak.” I sigh, grumbling below my breath and accidentally nuzzle his chest. He chuckles when I blush mortified by what I had done. “Peace, little one. Now you claim sanctuary from the Goblins, but before I grant it to you I need two things. I need your name and to officially identify you via a blood test.”

I sigh, “My name is Harry Potter.” He hums thoughtfully, not quite believing my claims.

“And why do you need sanctuary?” He asks.

“I live with my mother’s squib sister, Petunia Dursley nee Evans, and her family. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon hate magic and anything they consider abnormal, and because of that they hate me. I have lived with them since the night after my parents were killed. They barely feed me, my bedroom in the small cupboard under the stairs, Dudley, their son, likes to push me around, while Uncle Vernon beats me. They are leaving for vacation in a few days. They are planning to break my leg and chain me to the shed for two weeks while they are gone. I saw Uncle Vernon purchasing an inverted spiked dog collar. I honestly don’t think I would survive it.” I answer burying my face into his chest. “If I went to anyone else, they would contact Dumbledore and I would be returned to the Dursleys house.” King Jareth is pale, his eyes glimmer with rage.

“We will do the blood test, while I draft a Sanctuary contract with you. The truth spell I have been using has indicated that you were speaking the truth, and only the truth. You do believe yourself Harry Potter and I am inclined to believe it. We have been visited by another child posing as Harry Potter and my employees have been tricked into allowing him and Albus Dumbledore into your accounts. We will be retrieving everything which belongs to you. However, we need the blood test first.”

The blood test is done with little difficulty. The attending Goblin pricks my finger and allows my blood to fall on a special parchment. The words flow from my blood creating my personal information, which comes as a shock to me. 

 

**Hadrian Jamison Taliesin Cassius Antares Orion Potter-Black-Grimm**

“Harry James Potter”

b. 7.31.1980 – d. ǀ **Gender:** Male

_Pure-Blood, Magical, Potential Creature Inheritance_

**Test Dates:** 6.16.1986 (Current)

 

**Father(s):**

James Fleamont Hadwyn Aquila Perseus Potter ǀ “James Potter” (b. 1960, d. 1981)

Sirius Orion Domitian Claudius Nigellas Black ǀ “Sirius Black” (b. 1959) 

 

**Mother(s):**

Lillian Anna-Marie Victoria Euphemia Marlene Grimm Potter ǀ “Lily Potter” (b. 1960, d. 1981)

 

**Sibling(s):**

Unnamed Potter Male (c. 1981, d. 1981)

 

**Living Relative(s)/Non-Magical:**

Petunia Anne Dursley nee Evans (b. 1956) (Maternal Adoptive Aunt) (Squib)

Dudley Vernon Dursley (b. 1980) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Squib)

Vernon Victor Dursley (b. 1954) (Uncle-in-Law) (Muggle)

Oleander Indigo Evans (b. 1962) (Maternal Adoptive Uncle) (Squib)

Adele McKenzie Evans nee Mason (b. 1963) (Aunt-in-Law) (Squib)

Rose Adele Evans (b. 1982) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Squib)

 

**Living Relative(s)/Magical:**

Hyacinthus Andre Evans (b. 1985) (Maternal Adoptive Cousin) (Muggle-born Wizard)

Charlus Atticus Dante Thaddeus Henrik Potter ǀ “Charlus Potter” (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Dorea Cassiopeia Cora Emmaline Victoria Black Potter ǀ “Dorea Potter” (b. 1920) (Aunt-in-Law)

Altair Claudius Clarke Magnus Nicolas Potter ǀ “Aquila Potter” (b. 1943) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Elizabeth Andrea Marie Catalina Daniela McKinnon Potter ǀ “Mrs. Eliza Potter” (b. 1947) (In-Law)

Serpens Orion Henrik Charlemagne Cassius Potter ǀ “Henrik Potter” (b. 1946) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Joshua Atticus Charles Henry Tomas Ryder Potter ǀ “Consort Joshua Potter” (b. 1950) (In-Law) 

 Ignatius Antares Tiberius Apollo Cygnus Potter ǀ “Ignatius Potter” (b. 1949) (Paternal 2nd Cousin)

Cyrus Claudius Aiden Andreu Paul Potter ǀ “Cyrus Potter” (b. 1964) (Paternal 3rd Cousin) 

Octavian Julien Ciro Magnus Nicolai Potter ǀ “Octavian Potter” (b. 1967) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Julius Mycale Andre Nicodemus Viktor Potter ǀ “Julius Potter” (b. 1969) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Julian Mikhail Aurelian Renato Cypress Potter ǀ “Julian Potter” (b. 1969) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Dianna Vivian Louisa Cornelia Serafina Potter ǀ “Dianna Potter” (b. 1972) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Collin Joseph Martin Alexander Serpens Potter ǀ “Collin Potter” (b. 1966) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Edward William Quentin Constantine Ben Potter ǀ “Edward Potter” (b. 1968) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Jonathan Elias Basil Samuel Ashton Potter ǀ “John Potter” (b. 1971) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Wilhelmina Lydia Bethany Xenia Nia Potter ǀ “Mina Potter” (b. 1973) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Samantha Eloise Harriette Caroline Ruby Potter ǀ “Samantha Potter” (b. 1975) (Paternal 3rd Cousin)

Lukas Addison Orlando Jensen Kent Potter ǀ “Luke Potter” (b. 1979) (Paternal 3rd Cousin) 

Pollux Cygnus Proteus Aeolus Eurus Black ǀ “Pollux Black” (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Grandfather)

Irma Leila Selene Jennifer Victoria Crabbe Black ǀ “Irma Black” (b. 1912) (Paternal Great-Grandmother)

Alphard Phineas Rigel Sirius Antioch Black ǀ “Alphard Black” (b. 1930) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Cygnus Altair Pollux Phineas Rigel Black ǀ “Cygnus Black” (b. 1938) (Paternal Great-Uncle)

Druella Francesca Silvana Tia Natalie Rosier Black ǀ “Druella Black” (b. 1936) (Great Aunt-in-Law)

Bellatrix Violetta Druella Lyra Tia Black Lestrange ǀ “Bellatrix Lestrange” (b. 1951) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Andromeda Medea Silvana Merope Elianna Black Tonks ǀ “Andromeda Tonks” (b. 1953) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Narcissa Mira Helena Rhea Astrea Black ǀ “Narcissa Black” (b. 1955) (Maternal 2nd Cousin)

Claudius Tiberius Domitian Antonius Julio Malfoy ǀ “Claudius Malfoy” (b. 1952) (Cousin-in-Law)

Odysseus Arcturus Regulus Castor Ciaran Malfoy (b. 1974) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Ophelia Narcissa Bellatrix Mira Kiera Malfoy (b. 1974) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

 Oleander Claudius Pollux Serpens Daven Malfoy (b. 1976) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Draconis “Draco” Lucius Caelum Claudius Kieran Malfoy (b. 1980) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Scorpius Abraxas Altair Hadrian Dunstan Malfoy (b. 1980) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

Nymphadora Andromeda Eloise Laura Georgina Tonks ǀ “Nymphadora Tonks” (b. 1973) (Maternal 3rd Cousin)

 

**Godparent(s):**

Minerva Catia Aoife Addison Sandra McGonagall ǀ “Minerva McGonagall” (b. 1935)

Filius Wallace Bloodstone Dartmoor Aiden Flitwick ǀ “Filius Flitwick” (b. 1922)

Francis Edgar Alastair Augustus Richard Longbottom ǀ “Frank Longbottom” (b. 1959, d. 1981)

Alyson Vivien Penelope Eliza Katelyn Fawcett Longbottom ǀ “Alice Longbottom” (b. 1960, d. 1981)

**Spouse(s)/Mate(s):**

Unknown

**Child/Children:**

None Yet

**Noble Title Inheritance(s):**

Heir Black, Lord Winterfell, Earl Potter, Marquis Gryffindor, Duke Le Fay, Duke Peverell – by blood

Marquis Ravenclaw, Marquis Briarwood and Marquis Grimm – by Magic

 

_There are so many Potters alive. Why had no one taken me in? Why had they left me to rot on the Dursleys’ doorstep?_ Something in my chest clenched painfully. “My mom was adopted?” I ask shying away from the knowledge that the Potter family had all abandoned me. I felt rather ill.

“Not many individuals know that Lillian Grimm was blood adopted by Rose Evans nee Ravenscroft. Petunia Evans is not the daughter of Harrison Evans though. Rose Evans, her mother, was originally a Squib of the Ravenscroft bloodline, named Celestine Ravenscroft. Petunia Dursley was sired by Celestine’s older sister’s betrothed, Aleksander Krum. When Celestine’s father realized that his unwanted squib daughter was pregnant with the illegitimate child of his oldest daughter’s betrothed and his close friend, Aleksander, they dueled which resulted in Alek’s death. This also resulted in Lord Ravenscroft imprisonment and eventual suicide. Petunia’s full name is Alana Petunia Ravenscroft-Krum. Your mother discovered this in 1980, when blood tests confirmed your parentage.” The Goblin King says.

“Why would I need my parentage tested?” I ask gnawing on my lower lip.

“You were born with distinct features of the Grimm bloodline. Several weeks after your birth, James confronted Lily, convinced that she had slept around and that he had not sired you. Sirius, their husband, was torn between Lily and James. He told Lily about Gringotts’ parentage confirmation ritual. She was so angry and tearful, I was told. She went to Gringotts and requested a parentage test for you. She learned about her history that same day. Apparently, her adoptive mother had brought her to Gringotts for a blood adoption for her protection. James apologized, but their marriage never recovered. They were planning to divorce when she discovered she was pregnant again.” I close my eyes. _This was painful for me to learn, but I suppose it was not without value._ “Around this time James began seeing another woman, but then he died. This woman, Candance Greensborough, a half-blood, eventually married another man. I believe she petitioned for your guardianship, because James loved you so much, but she was denied.”

_Well at least someone cared even if they were misguided,_ I mused. 

“If I have features from the Grimm bloodline, then why do I look so much like my father?” I ask softly.

“I believe there is a powerful blood glamor on your features. I am told that you had chestnut-brown hair with soft red highlights. Your skin was much paler, and your eyes were a blue-green.” King Jareth informs me. I silently curse Albus Dumbledore. No doubt it was he who made me into a carbon copy of my father, with my mother’s eyes.

“Did my father have blue eyes?” I ask.

“His eyes were such a dark-blue people had mistaken them for a dark-brown-black.” The King admits, “Now tell me heir Potter, what do you want to do? We, Gringotts, cannot care for you indefinitely, but I imagine that you do not wish to return to your mother’s adoptive sibling’s care.” I nod in agreement.

“I was hoping to find an individual willing to blood adopt me into their family under a false identity.” I admit softly.

“That might be difficult.” The King says, “I would suggest however that you look into your own bloodline for a family.”

There’s a knock on the door and for the first time I note that I am in a massive meeting room. “Come in,” the King calls as I glance around me from the safety of King Jareth’s arms. The hall is cavernous, with an arched ceiling decorated with a mural of a battlefield in gray, black and red. The unlit fireplace is made of white marble and the walls are of polished redwood. A long redwood table runs from one end of the room to the other. At one end of the table is the fireplace and at the other end are the massive doors. Pulled up to the table are black-leather winged back chairs. We are sitting closest to the doors.

The doors open, and a goblin prostrates himself on the floor before his king, “My King, there is a Lord Arcturus Black, Lady Melania Black nee McMillan, a Lord Alessander Blythe, and a Cassiopeia Black here demanding an audience with yourself and our newest ward.” The goblin says indicating me with a casual wave of his hand.

“Let them enter but warn them if any harm should befall our ward, Harry James Potter, from their intentions, then they will suffer the wrath of Gringotts and the Goblin King.” King Jareth says.

The goblin nods frantically, eyes wide, and leaves to fetch their visitors. I turn my head into the King’s shoulder and chew on my lip nervously. The King cradles me closer and lets me nuzzle his shoulder instinctively. I silently curse my childlike impulses but do not deny that being held by another feels wonderful. I peek shyly at the door when I hear the footsteps outside the open doorway. Lord Arcturus Black is the first to enter with his beloved wife, Melania Black nee McMillan, on his arm.

Arcturus Black appears to be the spitting image of a much older Sirius Black III. For a moment I wonder if Arcturus Black had cloned himself to create Sirius, but then he is pureblood. No doubt, cloning is beneath him. His thick and painfully straight black hair was graying at the temples and his cobalt-blue eyes looked at King Jareth and I searchingly. He has a snowy-white complexion and aristocratic facial structure. His wife, Melania Black nee McMillan, has a round face, but is equally pale skinned. Her cheeks are rosy, and she has pale silver-gray eyes framed by ridiculously long eyelashes. Her curly hair is a pale golden-brown liberally streaked with white strands. Her lips are plump and a pale-pink. Both husband and wife are tall, but where Melania is slender, Arcturus has broad shoulders with heavy muscles.

Cassiopeia Black is immediately identifiable by her long pale-blond hair. All the females descending from Violetta Black nee Bulstrode have pale-blond hair like Narcissa Malfoy nee Black or a medium-brown like Walburga Black. She has pretty sapphire-violet eyes and is incredibly petite and slender, standing just below five foot-three. The dainty woman doesn’t look a day over thirty-five-years-old. She shares the same skin tone as her cousin, Arcturus, and the delicate aristocratic features. Her lips are less plump than Melania’s and her eyelashes shorter, but they were still long. Her pale coral-red lips are perfectly shaped into a cupid’s bow.

The last individual, the stranger, is a stunningly handsome man. He has shoulder-length, rich strawberry-blond hair and pale turquoise eyes framed by long eyelashes. His complexion is a soft peach-and-cream and he is tall and broad shouldered with a lanky figure. He shares the snowy white skin of the Black family, so I believe he is a family member I did not know. The stranger’s facial features are strong and squared. He is a striking man.

“Oh Merlin, he’s adorable at this age!” Melania coos as I peek at her from King Jareth’s arms. I blush and bury my face in Sidhe King’s shoulder. “King Jareth,” she says curtsying, as Cassiopeia mimics her. Lord Black inclines his head as the stranger smiles softly at me and King Jareth.

“Lord of Twilight,” King Jareth says, ignoring the others and turning towards the stranger, “What business do you have here.” The King demands. I look at the stranger again. So, Hermione’s and my idea for the representations of Magic did appear in this timeline. Lord of Twilight would be the representation of Gray Magic. There was also Lord of Light, representation of Light Magic and the Lord of Darkness, the representation of the Dark Magic. Then there were the impartial-political balancers, Lord of Nightfall and Lord of Daybreak. Although I say Lord, they could be a Lady. The man smiles at me softly, fondly as I peak at him.

“I stand before you as Lord Blythe, not Lord of Twilight. You are holding my future blood heir in your arms.”

“How is that you knew that Harry James Potter is here?” King Jareth asks cautiously.

“Because it has already happened.” Lord Black says.

“I am in possession of an ancient relic which alters time to a point. I can send some back, a maximum of five years and six months. My heir, Antares Black-Blythe, appeared in my manor on December 21, five years ago. He told me a story and offered me proof. I eagerly accepted him. His biological mother, his surrogate, is Miss Cassiopeia Black. He was also named the heir to the Black bloodline by Lord Black, since his former heir, Sirius Black, is in Azkaban and my lover, Regulus Black is dead.”

“But, Sirius is innocent!” I exclaim.

“Yes, we know. We have business with both Gringotts and the Ministry in the following months, in order to clear his name.” Lord Black says firmly. I give a soft sigh of relief, “But never the less, you are my heir.”

“So, you adopted him in June of 1986, this month?” the King asks carefully, “Which method did you use?”

“We performed a full bodily adoption.” Lord Blythe says.

“What is a full adoption?” I ask.

“Where a blood adoption would mask your identity as Harry Potter, a full bodily adoption is used you can still be identified by your magical core.” Jareth says.

“What is the full bodily adoption process?” I ask cautiously

“A homunculus is created in the womb of your adopted mother by the seed of your adoptive father. The child is not naturally conceived, so it will be born stillborn, since it is lacking a soul. The fetus stays in gestation for four months before it is born. A blood sample is taken from the corpse and the adopted child goes through a full ritual to change their DNA structure and their magical core. However, before any adoption is performed you must be in relatively good health. I will have you completely healed by one of our healers.” King Jareth says. “We should probably begin immediately, but first we must review the Potter accounts. Dumbledore dipped his sticky fingers into them.” King Jareth concludes. Within seconds of giving this revelation, a Goblin knocks on the door.

“The paperwork for the Potter accounts.” The little creature intones.

“Do you know what Dumbledore was doing with my fortune and Lordship?” I ask carefully, my body is taut with tension.

“Fortunately, yes,” the King says pointing to the pile of documents. “To sum up Dumbledore’s use of your funds, he has given considerable sums of money to certain parties of interest. To a Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, he has given 9,019.32 pounds bimonthly. To a Mrs. Molly Weasley he gives 30,000.00 galleons monthly. To an Arabella Figg he gives 8,000.00 pounds to monthly. To Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge and to Sturgis Podmore he gives each respectively 5,000 galleons monthly. The rest lines his pockets, and he pays to grease various politician’s hands. They are dispensed at the first of every month or second month. How do you wish to proceed? I must caution you that as soon as these payments have stopped Albus Dumbledore will be searching for you.”

“Hmmm, he won’t know if he receives Fey gold.” I say softly, hesitantly. Fey gold, unlike Leprechaun gold, lasts as long as the creator wishes it to exist. King Jareth smirks and takes out a quill, ink pot and a journal as the others look on.  “I would like the payments to be replaced with Fey gold hence forth for everyone. The payments will visibly end on October 31, 1988. I would also like the bank to place a fine on Mrs. Molly Weasley for the approximate amount of money she stole, however, her oldest children – Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred and George cannot give payments on her behalf from their personal vaults. Her husband is likewise banned from paying her debt. Please retrieve all the money from the other parties on October 31, 1989. Mrs. Weasley’s repayment will also begin on October 31, 1989. I would like the Lordship ring returned to the bank at midnight on October 31, 1988. All of Mr. Dumbledore’s votes as Lord Potter must be nullified at that point. Lily and James’s public wills should be read on November 1, 1988 in an emergency Wizengamott session. The press must be in attendance. Their private wills should be dispensed on October 30, 1988 to any other named individuals in the Will, other than Dumbledore and the members of the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Do you have a list of the members of this Order of the Phoenix?” Jareth asks thoughtfully.

“May I borrow a piece of parchment and quill?” I reply, Jareth hands me a piece of parchment and conjures as second quill. I list all living members of the Order of the Phoenix in black ink. I did exclude Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Frank Longbottom and Alice Longbottom as they would not be a threat to my plans. “Now, the rest of the private wills can be read in entirety on November 2, 1988. Additionally, I would request that each member be examined for compulsion and love potions and spells in private before they can receive their inheritances. If Mr. Weasley and his children are not listed in the Wills, request his presence at the bank later that week to be checked for potions and spells. Please exclude Molly Weasley. I am willing to pay for the tests and for the potions and spell-removal from their persons if there are any.” I say firmly.

“That will not be necessary, Gringotts policy states that the use of compulsion and love potions and spells are illegal on the premises and our clients cannot use them. It is not often an enforced law, but in this case, we will use it.” Jareth says. “No payment is required for the tests, although depending on the spells and potions used we may bill you for their removal.”

“I will sign a statement to that effect.” I agree, “Will I still be able to manage my accounts once I am adopted?” I wonder aloud. _I hadn’t thought of that._

“Only the account your father set up for you. The rest will revert to the new Potter Lord.” Lord Blythe answers, “However, you will be happy to know that the potential new Lord Potter is not a fan of Albus Dumbledore or his policies.”

“Who will potentially be the Potter Lord?” I ask.

“Charlus Potter, younger brother of Fleamont Potter. Fleamont is your grandfather.” Arcturus says. 

“You will have enough in your private account to fund the removal of potions and compulsion spells at Gringotts.” Jareth says calmly, I sigh in relief. Then I worry that I won’t have enough to fund my education at Hogwarts, I bite my lip.

“Harry,” Lord Blythe says softly, “I know what you’re thinking. Do not worry, I will provide for you as my heir. I am all too happy to be your Papa.” Lord Blythe admits. Lord Black chuckles.

“If he had his way he’d spoil you rotten.” Arcturus admits as Lord Blythe blushes. I stare incredulously at Lord Blythe, _I had never known anyone to behave so selflessly with a stranger. That is what I am, a proverbial stranger._ Lord Blythe reaches out his long-fingered hand and pets my hair softly, I look up at him wide-eyed. I lean into his gentle touch instinctively. Something inside me breaks and tears begin to trickle down my cheeks. I never had anyone play with my hair or hug me as a child while under the age of eleven. I had both happen to me today and I feel elated, but also exhausted from the emotional baggage I am weighed under. _Could… could I trust Lord Blythe to care for me? Could I trust their sincerity? Maybe, I have already begun to trust them since I don’t usually let others touch me without permission. Perhaps it’s my childlike body which instinctively accepts their soft affections. I do not know._

* * *

It is not until I am alone, tucked into a medical bed at Gringotts, that I finally allow myself to contemplate the betrayals I have faced from the Dursley family, the Weasley family and from Ms. Figg. I feel slightly ill. _I should’ve known that Ms. Figg was in on it. After all, pureblood kneazles were expensive pets._

The idea that Mr. Weasley is under compulsion spells and love potions has always niggled at my mind as a possibility. This especially began to worry me in the future, when it became evident he was experiencing long-term spell-damage and potion-intoxication. Mrs. Weasley had blamed it on the war and depression. She told everyone he was receiving treatment. As an Auror, I was allowed to check on confidential hospital records of the accused. I may have slipped into Arthur’s file. Arthur had been treated at St. Mungo’s for Nagini’s bite in 1995. However, for thirty years before that date and twenty years after the date, he had never seen a healer. Mrs. Weasley had lied. There was something nefarious happening to Mr. Weasley and I mean to get to the bottom of it.

I roll onto my side. The goblin healer had worked rigorously to remove any identifying scars from my body at the Goblin King’s insistence. The horcrux from the Dark Lord, Lord Marius Gaunt-Slytherin, also known to Gringotts as the attempted-usurper, was removed quickly and efficiently by a practicing Goblin exorcist. This made me both enraged and sick with sorrow. _I hadn’t needed to die to kill off the former Lord Voldemort, but Albus Dumbledore had planned for me to kick the bucket. No doubt, Dumbledore planned for my vaults to go to the Weasleys and his own children._ Turns out the asshat, Dumbledore, had conceived and carried children with his victim, Gellert Grindelwald. Gellert had been a Dark Lord, this was irrefutable, but he was still the victim of his rapist, Albus Fucking Dumbledore. I was disgusted by the old man, the Machiavellian monster – the master puppeteer. I wonder if this is still accurate in this timeline.

I found it fascinating that Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr, the true heir of Slytherin had not become Lord Voldemort in this timeline. At my insistent questioning, King Jareth left me to read through a massive self-updating book on modern events, a rare tome, which defined by Magical kind, began in the early 1930s, instead of the recent ten years muggles refer to modern events. Tom Riddle Jr. was raised in Wool’s orphanage from what I gathered, however, in 1935, when he was eight-years-old, he was adopted by Nicolas Flamel and his spouse, Perenelle Flamel. Briefly after the partial-blood adoption, Nicolas and Albus had a public row and never spoke again in public. Nicolas renamed Tom as Tomas Marvolo Nicolai Flamel-Slytherin. _No doubt Dumbledore and Flamel fought over Tomas and the boy’s Slytherin heritage. Albus Dumbledore was a prejudice man. I found it ironic that the man who prided himself on his lack of discrimination toward muggles and muggle-born witches and wizards was so prejudice towards Slytherins and those who had inherited blood from dark magic practitioners. It was hypocritical consider that the father of his children, Gellert Grindelwald, had been a dark lord. In the original timeline, not one of Dumbledore’s children had claimed their father’s name. the Dumbledore name died with Aberforth Dumbledore three years after the war._

Tomas had attended Hogwarts under Headmaster Dippet, where he was sorted into Slytherin. On Tomas’s fifteenth birthday, he was entitled the Lord of Darkness. Due to Deputy Headmaster Albus Dumbledore’s, who is the Lord of Light, harassment of Tomas, Nicolas transferred Tomas to Durmstrang. There was a huge scandal and Headmaster Dippet had demoted Albus to the role of only Professor of Transfiguration. Unfortunately, a few years later Dippet died and Albus assumed the Headmaster of Hogwarts title.

The scandal didn’t end there, though. A few years ago, Headmaster Dumbledore harassed a new student, a Ravenclaw first year… _I pause reading the name, the name my new family had decided to name me. I was reading about myself?!_ It says that between the joint effort of the child’s family – the Blacks and the Blythe-Trelawney families – the Lady of Daybreak, Rhiannon Lovegood, the Lord of Nightfall, Aquila Black, ( _I must look into him,_ I muse) and with the aid of the Board of Governors and the Head of the Auror Department, Ms. Amelia Bones, Headmaster Dumbledore was suspended. Nicolas Flamel was assigned to be the temporary headmaster. Albus Dumbledore had been suspended on October 1, 1983, during my would-be first year at Hogwarts. _I only had to deal with him for a month,_ I thought with a relieved mental sigh. 

I look over the changes Headmaster Flamel made to Hogwarts and I am greatly impressed. The core class subjects had been expanded and, in some cases, combined. HAP for example was Herbology, Astronomy and Potions combined into a singular subject. HAP was taught by three to five professors at a time, all masters in their areas of study. In fact, most of the core classes were shared by multiple professors. This included HAP, Magical and Mundane World History class ( _not taught by Binns!_ ), Magical World Cultures and Magical World Religions Class, Muggle World Cultures and Muggle World Religions Class, Defense classes which also studied Warding and Battle Medicine ( _what the heck is battle medicine? I wonder._ ) in the course, and Magic Theory class. Only Latin class, Charms Class and Transfiguration class were taught by a single Professor.

Electives still included Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, but Muggle studies had been removed. No doubt everything in it, formerly, was covered in the new Magical and Muggle World History class and Muggle World Religion and Cultures class. Electives also contained Alchemy, which has a prerequisite to include Physics and Chemistry. Offense Magic was taught as an elective, which caused me some concern, but Offense Magic also taught Dueling and Dueling Wards. There was Enchanting class, Arithmancy and Runes had been combined with Spell Crafting to make another class. There was a Healing elective and a Flying elective – _Flying as an elective? I wonder what that was about?_ There were also mandatory and non-mandatory seminars on Saturday mornings, but those were not listed in the book. Additional financial programs were introduced to students and their parents, who were stuck with a middle-class or low-income class salary. These financial solutions had increased the student class sizes.

In the financial solutions parents were given the option of taking out a loan from Gringotts and repaying it slowly. The other option, of the two solutions, was a smaller loan by the parents and their children would work in a summer work program beginning in their fourth year. The children would work on during the summer assisting in a number of potential occupations. It was called the “Summer Apprenticeship program”. Not only did it cut down on the need for loans and repayment after they graduated, but it also introduced students to a variety of different occupations, and it allowed for the students to begin network across their desired career fields. An additional stipend was given for students to purchase knickknacks, but it was encouraged to save the stipend to pay for their school uniforms and other materials for classes. The largest and most well-paying placement was in a small village near Hogsmeade, which raised crops and farm animals for Hogwarts. The small village, known as Knollwood, also harvested potions ingredients from plants in their exotic greenhouses.

Newly graduated students were recruited from Hogwarts into “Adventure Groups” which harvested ingredients for potions from around the world. This introduced students to a larger magical world and its diverse residents. The “Adventure Groups” employees lived primarily in Knollwood, but they also spend months at a time in exotic locations. The Goblins practically raided the outgoing employees and recruited these adventurous lads and ladies to their Curse Breaking program.

The magical world it seems had changed and adapted. My eyes slowly slid closed as the book sagged against my chest. I fell asleep holding the thick tome to my chest.         

* * *

In a dark corner of Roppongi, Japan, in an abandoned subway station, darkness seeps. “Your turn Kenji-kun! Tell us a ghost story.” Insists the only girl in the group of preteens. Pretty Suzuki Mayumi watches the shy newcomer, Yamato Kenji, eagerly. For telling ghosts stories in the dimly lit and creepy subway station, the group of eight children had donned Oni masks.

“Alright,” Kenji says softly brushing a stray hair from the face of his mask. He tilts his head to one side like a lost puppy. “It begins like this…” The gate which they had pushed open a crack, to sneak into the subway station, abruptly slams shut. The kids let out high-pitched screams, but Kenji speaks regardless of their panic.

 

“Let’s play a game,

First one to lose,

Loses their toes,

First one to leave,

Leaves without a nose,

First one to cry,

Loses an eye,

Last one to die,

Wins the prize,

In this game,

A game of death and gore,

I play the King,

You play the whore,

Let’s play again,

For what is a game between friends?

Last one to call?

Last one gets all!”

 

“That’s not funny, Kenji-kun. That’s poem not a story. Did you get one of the older boys to lock us in here?!” Mayumi demands hotly. The boy tilts his head to the side. The other preteens look at him accusingly, some ripping their masks from their faces. They scowl at the masked boy, Kenji.

“I thought we were playing a game?” Kenji asks cocking his head to the side.

“We were telling stories, not playing a game Kenji-kun.” Mayumi insists. Kenji stands, and the shadows seem to thicken.

“But isn’t that how it always begins? We played a game too you know?”

“Who played a game with you?” Another boy asks boldly as the other children rattle the gate in their desperation calling for help. Mayumi took a step back in both worry and shock.

“There were seven of us too, seven kids and one man. One man who killed me, pushed me onto the subway tracks just as the train went by. I remember it, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“That not funny Kenji-kun!” Mayumi insists, pushing against his shoulder roughly. Her hand came back wet and sticky. In the gloom of the abandoned station she could barely see the color of her hand. Her hand is covered in red liquid – blood. She screams, high-pitched and terrified, falling over, she crab-walks backwards. Scrapped knee peeking out from under her skirt. The other preteens are a mess of screaming and crying as Kenji takes a step forward.

“Thant’s enough.” Someone snaps in the darkness of the abandoned train station, “Let the kids go, Oni-baka.” A flame flickers into existence as their savior lit his cigarette calmly with the flame sprouting on his fingertip. The metal gate opens silently, the kids flee in panic. Mayumi casts one last terrified glance backwards in worry for their savior. 

“You allowed my dinner to escape, priest.” The disguised demon claims. _An Oni like this one, is the result of horrific tragedy, Tomas had no doubt that the story the child had shared with the others was true. Oni were created mainly from tragedy and more often than not from a child’s tragedy. Tomas has to wonder how many of those seven kids died to create this twisted creature._

“Didn’t your mother tell you not to play with your food? A big bad man, much like myself, might just steal them away.” Tomas says taking a drag of his cigarette.

The Oni cocks his head in thought. “How strange, I don’t remember,” it says.

“Well that’s too bad, but such is life. You tend to forget all the important lessons until it’s too late.”

“Never mind that, I am hungry. I suppose you will be dinner.” The demon says growing in size, becoming a flesh lump of what appeared to be children sown together in a patchwork of bodies, thick black stitches held the lifeless bodies to one and other. The children’s fleshy faces, contorted in pain and fear, was the most gruesome aspect of the Oni. The shadows lengthen, and the room is plunged into darkness. The Oni takes a rattling breath, frost climbs the stairs which lead outside of the station. You could’ve seen your breath in the sudden cold, if it wasn’t pitched black. The gate abruptly swings closed with a rattling finality. 

“Sorry, to disappoint you.” Tomas says in the gloom, “But I’m not a priest, I’m more of what you would call an Onmyōdō Mage, what my professors call a Soul Summoner or even a Light Necromancer. Suffice to say, this won’t be pretty.” Comes Tomas’s disembodied voice, echoing around the abandoned subway station eerily. A high-pitched and blood-curdling scream, then a gurgling sound like someone chocking on blood. The darkness diminishes and the frost fades.

“You’re a cursed man, Tomas Flamel-Slytherin.”

“Always and forever.” Was the deadly reply. 

* * *

I wake cuddled into someone’s arms. _This_ , I think with a small pout, _has become a reoccurring experience_. I don’t know why they keep cuddling me like a damned stuffed teddy, but I am not about to complain. My childlike body takes comfort in other’s arms. Twisting around in my cocoon of blankets I see the slumbering features of my soon-to-be papa. Alessander Blythe-Trelawney looks significantly younger, asleep. Alessander is a tall man with broad shoulders and thin, wiry, muscles. He would be called coltish if he wasn’t so graceful. His strawberry-blonde hair falls to his shoulders. He has turquoise eyes, that open slowly as I observe him, which are framed by long golden eyelashes. My new papa has a square jaw with a cleft, and high sculpted-cheekbones. His nose is aquiline, but not huge, with a thin upper lip, but a full and sensual bottom lip. A little stubble dusts his jaw and his silver-rimed reading glasses rest on his head. I nuzzle his shoulder unconsciously and he begins to yawn. “Good morning, Antares.” Alessander or Les says softly. It was determined by all of us conspirators that I should practice addressing everyone by their titles and respond to my new names – Antares Cassius Raziel Cygnus Silas Black-Blythe-Trelawney, Antares Black for short.

“Good morning Papa,” I greet softly. Les has agreed to be Papa, where James would’ve been Da.

“Well, today is the final ritual and you will officially become Antares Black. The Homunculi was born this morning.”

“Is Auntie Cassie okay?” I ask. Cassiopeia had requested I use Aunt as her title, considering that she was a surrogate-carrier for Lord Blythe and in conjuncture, Grandpa Arty and Grandma Mel. Cassie also declared herself, “not mother material,” despite her evident adoration of me. I worried I wouldn’t ever reach the fiercely intelligent woman’s preconceived expectations of myself.

“She’s fine Ana,” he says shortening my name, much to my disgruntlement. It sounded like a girl’s name! “Are you ready for your part.” I nod firmly, I was all too ready to become Antares. I wanted Les and Cassie to be my parents already.

“That’s fortunate,” says another voice from the private hospital room door, “We’re ready for both of you.”

* * *

**To Be Continued**

**NOTES:**

One) Yes, the scene with Tomas is relevant to the story - I hope you enjoyed it and was slightly spooked by it. I was inspired by the short anime called "Kakurenbo," not particularly horrifying, but I think it represents Asian legends perfectly, but I am not an expert on Asian culture - Ignore me. You can watch it on Youtube. It's not really bloody, so I recommend it to anyone thirteen-years or older.

Two) The mentions of Albus x Gellert, again necessary, no matter how disturbing. Their children will pop up later in the story. I do not like depicting non-consensual relationships, so that's as graphic as it gets.

 

**Okay my QUESTIONS - time!**

Reading this chapter what were some emotions you felt?

What was your favorite part?

What would you have changed?

Where can I improve?

What would you like to see happen in this story? -- Not guaranteed it will happen though.


	3. The Ancient Roots of History and the New Dawn’s Golden Skies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adoption ritual, a Birthday, time travel, udders, and "Surprise you have a son!" (aka the cute and cuddle-y chapter with so many fun gifts). This chapter is the result of a long sleepless night. Enjoy!

#  **Once Upon a Time Turner**

**_Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series_ **

**Explicit Adult Content – _Read at your Own discretion_**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

_Additional Illustrations by_ No One Currently – Looking for Artists

_Edited and Proofread by_ BluC1026

**_Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors_ **

* * *

 

**(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling’s Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beedle the Bard (book), Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (script), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their respective creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

**Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

* * *

 

**Chapter Two:**

The Ancient Roots of History and the New Dawn’s Golden Skies

 Sidhe are uniquely gifted creatures, who remain untouched by time in the conventional sense. They are immortal and do not age physically beyond their majority, at the age of twenty-five. Their magic does not dwindle or grow with age. Their power remains at the same level throughout the entirety of their lives. As soon as King Jareth and the family of Antares Black-Blythe returns to their private rooms in Gringotts, for the night, the Sidhe King of the Goblins disappears deep into the bowels of Gringotts. An ornate ritual room is set up with a meticulousness, which would be daunting to most ritual practitioners.

At the center of the room, on a black-marble altar is a glass orb sitting on a silver-gray cushion ensconced in an ornate iron lattice work depicting thorny vines which supports the glass orb on the pillow. The Sidhe are intrinsically entwined with the elder deities, so when the timeline had been reset and fates of mortals recreated, they were aware of it. King Jareth, having met Antares, knew the child was god-touched. The tall silver doors swing shut behind the Goblin King. He removes a vial of what appears to be blood and the king waves his hand at the lattice work around the orb. The lattice work parts allowing him access to the orb.  

Stepping forward and over the engraved ritual-array on the stone floor, King Jareth pours several drops of blood, Antares’s blood, over the glass orb. He pricks his own finger, allowing several drops to join Antares’s blood on the orb. The orb begins to glow golden, the light steadily increasing. Waving his hand once more, the King closes the lattice work and steps back over the ritual-array just as a figure materializes over the orb. The figure is a woman with thick and slightly frizzy golden-brown hair. Her skin shines a mother-of-pearl sheen, a common trait found among the oldest members of the elder deities. Her eyes are a luminous gold, so rich in color they seem to be made from the molten metal. She is dressed in a salmon-colored robe and glowed with a ghostlike luminescence, almost entirely translucent but also nearly overwhelming. “Thank you for the warning about the unique knowledge and intelligence the boy has, Milady Hyacinth,” King Jareth greets the deity, “The child is safe and has found family. However, I wonder about the interest the child has gained from you and your court?” The King asks.

“While my interest is none of your business,” the deity, Hyacinth, says in in her dual-toned voice with its echoey quality, “I will satisfy your curiosity, but only this once, child.” The goddess continues, “Before I was Hyacinth, Goddess of Wisdom and the Weaver of Mortal and Immortal Fates, I was a mortal and the true friend of Harry James Potter. I was grievously wounded by our betrayers and was unwilling to live and sacrificed myself to give him a happier fate. The deities of my original timeline, my original realm, charged me with maintaining the new timeline, the new realm. I was thrust back to the beginning of this timeline. The beginning before King Arthur and his court, before the founding of Hogwarts and before the birth of the Sidhe. I have created and, in some cases, recreated the fates of all. Harry James Potter is my friend, forever and always. He is my blessed one.” Hyacinth concludes. “I am charging you and your court, with what happiness and safety you can give Antares Black from the Machiavellian monster, Albus Dumbledore. Humans have free will and I cannot assign the man’s destiny until his end. I can create an ending for him, his fate, but his path to that point is his own.” She concludes.

“I will do what I can for Antares Black, he is a precious child.” King Jareth says sincerely.

* * *

**June 18, 1986.**  The Horcrux behind my scar had been removed and I felt strangely lighter, unlike the last time. The goblins informed me that a killing curse would not have removed the soul shard correctly, leaving behind a lot of magic scarring on my magical core and in my mind. Another thing to hold Dumbledore accountable for. What had shocked to Goblins, my family, and even King Jareth was my sudden ability to sense magical currents and magical ley lines.

Today was day we were doing the full blood adoption. The first step of the full-blood adoption process was to age the stillborn homunculi appropriately. The time device my Papa had in his Ancestral Manor could only turn back time by five years and six months. So, I would be unceremoniously dropped in December 21, 1981. However, my birthdate would be June 21, 1972. I needed to be nine years old, not my current six-years-old. So, they goblins had decided to alter the full-blood adoption ritual to age me to the exact age of the homunculi, which would be eight-nearly-nine-years-old. The process of prematurely aging the homunculi was a gruesome and I had skipped out on its full development. To my embarrassment and to my horror, it was necessary for the adoption ritual to be both washed by intended parents and dressed in a white linen shift.

I am tempted to drown myself in the large tub while Aunt Cassie and Papa gently lower me into the tub. I eyed the bathwater cautiously, as if it were a feral beast intent on devouring me. Aunt Cassie is fussing over my petite height and thin figure, the result of the Dursley’s neglect. I am grateful that the goblin healers have removed my many scars otherwise I am sure Aunt Cassie would’ve murdered the Dursley family and taken several swings at the former Headmaster, Dumbledore. To give me a sense of privacy, papa had insisted on a bubble bath. Papa squeaks the rubber ducky at me tauntingly and I soak him with water in response. Papa blinked wide-eyed at me since I had used my wandless magic to shape and hurl much of the bathwater at him. Aunt Cassie has sunk to the tile floor laughing with tears streaming down her cheeks. Grasping his wand, Papa dries himself before grabbing the shampoo and pouring it on my head. I pout. 

* * *

Pink-cheeked, scrubbed squeaky-clean and dried in the biggest and softest towel I have ever known, the white cotton shift is dropped over my head. I stick my arms in the sleeves, but it is too large. Papa laughs and shrinks the garment with his wand. I am picked up and carried again. This is becoming a reoccurring theme, I think sourly. My childlike body craves the soft touches of affection and I cannot help but give in to its demands. My thinly clothed bottom is placed on a marble altar. The King enters the room dressed scantily in an open white robe and golden-brown loincloth. My father blushes bright red. I smirk, I know where my father’s interest lies now. Although, I must admit, myself, that the Goblin King is certainly well built and very handsome. “Are you ready Antares?” Jareth asks as he selects a paint brushes and a vial of blood from the selection which a Goblins offers him on a golden tray.

“Yes, sir.” I squeak blushing as he sheds his robe, only dressed in his loincloth. My father gives me a knowing look and I kick him in his thigh in retaliation. The Goblin King has an ornate blue-green-black tattoo on his back in the form of dragonfly wings. They’re otherworldly beautiful. He is also wearing delicate amulets, which I belatedly realize are meant to protect him from magical backlash. The amulets drip down his front to his belly button in long graceful chains of indigo sapphires, black tourmaline, green fluorite, Malachite and black-red bloodstone in carefully etched silver runic circles of vines and other natural flora and fauna. His pointed ears are adorned in graceful ear-cuffs. The loincloth (although I do not look long) is embroidered with golden runes. He is also wearing bands of gold shaped like the antlers of a stag on his upper arms. The stag’s antlers are entwined with a mother-of-pearl lily and emerald gems, which bring tears to my eyes.  

The Goblin King selects a brush made of goat hair and the handle is bamboo commonly used in sumi-e, Japanese ink paintings. He then bends over a selection of inks, all made of the darkest black which shifts to red as King Jareth holds them up into the light. My father is elbowed in the side by Aunt Cassie. “You’re drooling.” She says calmly as Alessander cradles his side.

“And you have very sharp and pointy elbows.” Papa complains.

“Oh, all the better to jab you with.” Aunt Cassie says, and I am forced to smother my giggles into my hands.

“Alright, Lord Blythe, Miss Black, please stand on the focal points of the ritual,” Jareth says indicating two circles opposite each other on the ritual array. Standing before Antares, Jareth opens the jar of ink. “I selected the ink mixed with blood of two of the most innately magical species in the world.” He removed another vial of blood from seemingly nowhere. “This is the blood of the aged homunculi. I am mixing it with the ink as well.” He says popping the cork and pouring it into the now open jar of ink. He swirls the ink in the container. The shade changes from a black-red to a turquoise with golden flecks. Dipping his brush on the jar, King Jareth vanishes the cotton shift on me. I blink before blushing fiercely, as now I am only in my birthday suit. Ignoring my naked figure, King Jareth gestures for me to lay flat with arms at my sides and my legs slightly spread. I do so reluctantly as I feel horribly exposed. The king begins painting strange symbols that I do not recognize across my chest. “These are sigils,” the King says noticing my curiosity, “I am using sigils of the Celtic otherworld for this ritual.” I nod closing my eyes instinctively as the brush flies across my eyelids. I keep my eyes closed as the brush paints on my forehead, across my nose and cheekbones and down my chin. The last symbols are drawn around my marking from the deities whom I give homage to on my ankles and the soles of my feet. Summoned warm-air dries the ink onto my skin. “Now, Antares, I am going to cut both your thumbs and my own. Then we will start the ritual. It will hurt.” I nod, but barely flinch as the knife cuts a paper-fine cut onto my thumbs. King Jareth drips his own blood on my forehead and on each of my eyes.

I hear the doors open to the chamber and tense with worry. “Hello Queen Titania and King Oberon of the Summer Court, Queen Mab of the Winter Court, Lord Gwyn ap Nudd of the Cŵn Annwn and Lady Rhiannon the Gatekeeper of Death, what business do you have here.”

“We wish to stand witness,” Lord Gwyn ap Nudd says, sounding like a hundred baying hounds, “to the blessed one’s rebirth.” With my eyes closed I am unable to the incredible sight of the five Sidhe, but from the emotions flowing off of Aunt Cassie and Papa, they are shocked and awed.

“Then stand witness, we will begin as soon as the doors are shut.” The doors slam shut and the altar under me seems to rotate and light shines brightly in my magical senses. Then darkness and chanting began in a language I cannot discern. It is lyrical – light and airy – it’s like windchimes in the breeze or the rush of water in a streambed. It’s as if I am listening to something both unnervingly ancient and powerful, but also it is as if I have just opened my eyes to the world around me and I have been filled with childlike innocence once more. It’s a beautiful sound. Then the changes begin, and I struggle to hold in my pained screams as my blood seems to boil in my veins and my bones crack and shift. My very hair follicles hurt and finally I cannot hold it in any longer, I scream. Darkness and oblivion took me once more.

* * *

**June 21, 1986.** I wake up slowly, knowing today was the day I would be thrown into the past. A knot of unease tightens in my gut. I open my eyes and blink. There’s a mountain of presents at the foot of my bed. I state stupidly at the pile until someone clears their throat. Looking up, I see Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel, Aunt Cassie, Papa and King Jareth seated in the attached sitting room of my quarters in Gringotts. I blink, and King Jareth is abruptly at the door. He’s dressed in black slacks and a red-satin waistcoat with gold embroidery over a long sleeved white-collared shirt. A gold pocket watch on a chain is tucked into his pocket. He’s not wearing any shoes, he’s not wearing socks. I stare at his feet stupidly. “Good morning sleepyhead,” Papa says from behind King Jareth. I pout, causing King Jareth to laugh at my expression. It’s a rich laugh. He runs a hand through his pale gold hair.

“Good morning, Ana,” King Jareth says, my pout increases, “I have had a goblin lay out the clothes for you this morning in the bathroom. Please shower quickly and change. Then you can open your gifts.” I nod slipping off the massive bed backwards from under the covers. Ignoring the laughter at my hair, which, no doubt, looks a mess, I walk into the bathroom.

Pausing in front of the mirror I stare at my decidedly foreign features. My hair is a rich gold color, the color of sun-ripened wheat, and it reaches my shoulders in feathery waves. A nose that is slightly upturned and could be likened to a button. My face is slender, with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones, though I still have some baby fat clinging to my cheeks. My pale-pink lips are full and soft. I have snowy-white skin with a touch of golden-peach to my cheeks. The eyes reflecting back at me are a pale blue-gray with navy-rims. Those eyes are framed by long eyelashes and sculpted, darker eyebrows. I am very petite and slender for my age, but that couldn’t be helped.

Huffing in annoyance at my androgynous appearance, I turn away from the mirror and strip then step into the shower. I shower quickly using both shampoo and conditioner on my hair, before scrubbing my body down with soap. Rinsing off, I step out of the shower and dry myself off with a soft towel, before eyeing the outfit left for me on the counter. With a sigh of resignation at being dressed like a child’s doll, I pull on the pair of soft cotton boxers, black slacks with their neat creases are next. I button the pants before pulling on the white-collared dress shirt. The white shirt has a mandarin collar with a single mother-of-pearl button to close it at the throat. The other buttons trail down (a little off-center) the right side of my chest. Over this, I wear a silver-gray waistcoat, which has a soft glow when it catches the light. I pull on a pair of black socks and pause, picking up the black hair ribbon. Sighing, I use a little wandless magic to dry my hair and brush it back before tying it off with the ribbon. Some of my hair escapes the ribbon and frames my face. There is a knock on the bathroom door as I struggle to button the cuffs. “Yes?” I call out.

“Ana, I have a few things we forgot to give you before you went in to shower.” Papa calls.

“Come in.” I call. The door opens, and Papa enters. He’s carrying several jewelry boxes. I visibly deflate at the sight of the boxes. Papa chuckles. Placing the boxes on the counter, he picks up one black velvet jewelry box. “Normally, the Most Ancient and Noble Houses, use an heirship ring,” Papa begins, “But the Blythe bloodline uses a necklace.” He opens the box revealing a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. It’s a delicate and tiny silver Celtic knot with a sapphire hanging from the knot. It’s on a silver chain. It’s very pretty. Papa lifts it out of the box and places it around my throat. He secures it before muttering a Latin spell. The necklace tightens into a choker and the stone glows for only a moment. Then I tuck the necklace under my mandarin collar. 

“You’re also Heir Trelawney,” Papa says pulling out another black velvet box, “However, like the Blythe bloodline, Trelawney doesn’t wear a ring, they wear a tiny ear cuff.” He says opening the box to display the white-gold ear cuff inscribed with three lines on tiny runes. A white-gold chain connects the ear cuff to an ear stuff with a clear aquamarine stone and three tiny, white-gold, feather pendants. The feather pendants are barely bigger than the nail of an adult pinky finger and hang barley two centimeters below my earlobe. “Can I pierce your ears, Ana?” Papa asks. I bite my lip and nod firmly.

Papa takes out his wand, there’s a slight pressure, a sharp pain in my right ear, and Papa is slipping in the stud and ear cuff in before I realize it. “I also bought you an additional ear stud, there’s this odd muggle-born belief that which ear you have pierce determines your sexual preferences. So, I thought until you’re older, we’d pierce both ears?” I nod, and he shows me another clear aquamarine stud. He pierces my ear and then slips on the earring. Another hastily muttered spell and both earrings glow slightly before turning to their natural luster. “You cannot take these off, don’t worry they’re spelled with their protection and yours in mind.”

“Now, I also have a pair of cufflinks for you, from Grandma Mel.” Papa says. The cufflinks are sapphires in white-gold settings with a single rune carved into them. He helps me put them on. “Grandpa Arty, has your heir ring in the other room.” I nod with a small quirk to my lips. We exit the bathroom and Grandma Mel begins cooing over my adorableness causing Aunt Cassie to smother her laughter behind her hands while King Jareth to smiles into his morning tea. Grandpa Arty and I share a commiserating look before he signals me over.

“Now, Antares,” Arcturus says, “I would normally give you’re the heirship ring, but I had completely forgotten that there was also an Heirship bracelet until one of our House Elves complained about a light from the Lords private vault in the house. Apparently, the bracelet was waiting around for a person such as yourself.” He says regally, before pulling out a box from his robe pocket and presenting it to me. I open it and stared at the piece of jewelry in surprise. The thin band is made of black zirconium and red-gold with feathers carved into it. Set in the middle of the band is a single diamond with the Black’s older house motto in rose-gold encircling it; “familiae semper, aliud potissimum.” I happily slip on the heirship bracelet. It snaps shut and glows softly for a moment before settling. 

Before I can protest, Aunt Cassie scoops me up and settles me on her lap.

* * *

After breakfast is cleared, King Jareth floats over my packages. At my curious look the King stifles a snort, “Forgot it was your birthday today, didn’t you?” I blush scarlet as the others coo over me. I pout displeased but take the first wrapped gift the king floats over to me. I cannot help how my body responds to my emotions, but I intend to work on it. The first package is wrapped in blue paper and bears the Gringotts crests and another unusual crest, Dragonfly wings, which I belatedly realize is from King Jareth.

“Thank you,” I whisper. The King smiles at me as I slowly unwrap the package, which is roughly the size of my fist. It’s a tiny wooden chest made of cherrywood, but in grows in size when unwrapped. The wood’s natural rings are visible despite the wood stain. The chest if approximately five feet long and three feet wide. It is divided into three vertical parts, each with its own lid. Each lid is fastened with a copper-colored lock. The chest is four-footed. The wooden seams are covered in the same metal and inscribed with runes. I am able to identify all the runes as means of protection. The chest even has its own built-in ward. I stare uncomprehendingly at the beautiful piece of work. “Thank you.” I say again smiling at King Jareth softly.

He returns my smile, “It’s a goblin made chest, so you will need to add a little blood to the locks, for the locks to lock onto your magical signature. And, yes, pun intended.” He says offering me a knife with a smile. I prick my thumb on the knife without question and smear blood on the individual locks. After a moment, the locks click open and the blood fades away. “You will need to set passwords on each lock before you go to Hogwarts. However, I would wait until your rite of transition in case you come into a rare language gift.” I nod, mentally making a note to look into this Rite of Transition. “Now go on, open the compartments.” I remove the padlock and open the lid to the immediate left. The first compartment looks like a deep square well, “That is the wardrobe compartment.” Jareth says, tapping the interior sides of the trunk where several drawers spring open. “These are for your shoes, socks and undergarments.” I nod. Jareth pushes the drawers closed before tapping the opposite side of the interior of the compartment. A long line of hangers appears next, “And your shirts, robes and coats.” He taps the side again the hangers slide back into the wall cavity. He removes his hand. I shut the compartment, still in awe of the craftsmanship. “Next compartment,” Jareth instructs.

The second compartment is filled with what appears to be several old-fashioned library index-drawers, there are empty nameplates on each drawer. I open one drawer curiously and note the space inside has been altered to hold books the size of an encyclopedia. The books would slide in with the spines facing upwards. “Twenty books per drawer. I suggest you create your own organization system.” I nod, counting thirty drawers which means the chest can hold six hundred books. I am amazed by the chest. “Last compartment,” I shut the library compartment and open the last. The last compartment has sixteen cubbyholes. “Your potions compartment to store ingredients and extra cauldrons.” I nod, stunned by the beautifully crafted gift. “Now, I know Dumbledore has been trying to get his hands on any and all goblin made materials, so I suggest you carry this on yourself at all times and use a secondary chest as a dummy chest.” I nod quickly in agreement.

“Next gift,” Grandpa Arcturus says handing a wrapped book. I open the wrapping carefully and stare in shock at the title, “That book is traditionally called the Black Grimoire, it contains all the secrets of the Black family magic and has detailed profiles of each of our members whether disowned or not. It can only be read by the Marquis Black and his or her heir, which means you.” Tears gather in my eyes and I throw myself into Grandpa Arty’s arms. This means, without a single doubt, he seems me as family or he would never give me such a priceless artifact. The other gifts are quickly unwrapped.

From Grandpa Arty, I received the Black Grimoire, a chess set and several books on strategy, the Black shares in the Daily Prophet, ownership of Black Estate in Wernigerode, Germany and the Black family workshops in the Berlin Clocktower Courts. The Berlin Clocktower courts were part an exclusive underground community building in Berlin which housed the shops and workshops of the most esteemed Masters, Adepts and Craftsman of various magical crafts. The Black family workshops were empty currently. The last three gifts were meant to be instructional tools in business and estate management.

From Grandma Mel, I received a pile of new wizard clothing and muggle clothing. Melania McMillan had gone out of her way to pick up clothing I was familiar with in the muggle world. I stuttered out a thank you, shocked by Grandma’s insight and empathy. I also received Art supplies in the form of several sketchbooks and art materials. She also picked out from me a rare Encyclopedia set on Wards.

Aunt Cassie had selected for me, ten books belonging in the “A History of Magic Undivided series,” which she claimed that the collection of authors did their best to remain unbiased and covered many species perspectives. She also gave me a Self-Updating Encyclopedia set on European Runes and Sigils. I received five never ending leather bound journals, black ink, quills and a quill sharpening set. I was also given to other books from her, “Latin Roots: Magical Latin Explained” and “An Instruction on Silent Casting.” I thanked her, tempted to begin reading, but instead, hesitantly, put the books aside.

From Papa, I received the Blythe Grimoire (more tears followed), a set of books on “Elemental Magic,” and “Meditation and Movement.”  I also received a bracelet which prevents anyone from reading my mind until I mastered Occlumency. I was also given the management of the Blythe Estate in Manarola, Italy for the same purpose Grandpa Arty handed over the other estates.

Alongside the amazing chest, King Jareth also included a set of Goblin-forged Black tungsten Bowie knives and two black leather dimension sheaths meant to hide in my clothes and redirect attention from them. He also threw in three rare tomes – one on “Gobbledygook,” “Goblins Craftsmanship Studies, A General Outline,” and “A Self-Updating Encyclopedia Set of Sigils, Runes and Glyphs for the Celtic Ley lines.” All rare and priceless.

There were ten packages left in the pile that were not sent from Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel, Papa, Aunt Cassie or King Jareth and the Goblin Nation. After King Jareth and Grandpa Arty scanned the packages and found nothing harmful, I was instructed to open them. The first I put my hands on are three tied together. The top was a thin envelope, the second is obviously a book and the last was a crate which immediately made a disgruntled sound at me. I stared stupefied as the crate hissed at me again, forming words in my mind. “I don’t want to be in a box, open it. Come on, let me out.” The crate complained. In a daze, I discarded the smaller gifts and opened the crate. I was expecting a snake, what I got was definitely not a reptile.

About the size of a kitten was a snow leopard, a magical snow leopard if the magic flowing on the tiny creature was any indication. As the kitten stepped out of the crate, it grew in size until in dwarfed me and reached my terrified papa’s chest. “Ana, get back quickly.” My papa says pointing his wand at the leopard. I react immediately, throwing my arms around the leopard’s neck.

“Don’t hurt, Tyr!” I cried out as the massive leopard nuzzled my neck. King Jareth abruptly made a chocking noise before falling out of his chair giggling. Papa stared at him incomprehensively. Grandpa and Grandma stares as the giant cat begins cleaning his paw revealing sharp canine teeth.

“Only, you Ana, would have a familiar that big.” King Jareth gasps between giggles. Papa lowers his wand slowly. “I imagine, your familiar can shrink in size?” I nod watching Tyr with awe.

The giant snow leopard sniffs and makes a hissing sound which translates to “Not that I want too. I am not as impressive when I am that tiny.” I translate for my family and they stare at me in awe and surprise.

“A full familiar bond hasn’t been in effect for sixty years.” King Jareth informs me petting Tyr’s head. The big cat sneezes, complaining about Sidhe magic.

“Sorry, we didn’t recognize you Tyr,” Papa speaks up, “We have never seen you so big.” The cat huffs unhappily.

“Well open your other gifts.” King Jareth instructs. I rip off the paper on the book quickly and freeze. Turning to the first page, tears well up in my eyes. The book was “Hogwarts: A History.” Written in familiar flowing script was the words, _I will be your friend always and forever_. The tears came quickly, and I hug the book to my chest with a small sad smile. “Hermione,” I whisper, “Thank you.” I turn to the last gift of the three and open the packet. It’s two sets of paperwork for the British Ministry date June 21, 1972 for the identity of Antares Black-Blythe declaring my birth to Cassiopeia Black and Alessander Blythe, a pureblood. The second one is for the Russian Ministry of Magic, under the Tsar, dated December 21, 1968, for a birth of another male, Raziel Winterfell, a half-blood. Included in Raziel’s paperwork is his International equivalent to the British OWLS and NEWTS. “She gave me a second identity and ensured that my paperwork of my birth was in the ministry on June 21, 1972.” I say happily.

“Who?” Grandpa Arty asks.

“My friend.” I say happily, I am beaming and they’re hesitant to question me. King Jareth shoots me a knowing look. I hand over the paperwork to Grandpa Arty and Papa to review. I turn to the seven other gifts. The card on the first proclaims it from _Aquila Black_. “Grandpa Arty, who is Aquila Black.” Arcturus and Alessander glance at each other.

“Aquila is part of the family and the only other individual who knows you’re a time traveler and adopted into the family.” Grandpa says succinctly. I nod in understanding and open the gifts. The first gift is stationary with a strange crest. Peering over my shoulder, Papa laughs.

“That’s your personal crest. Aquila must have commissioned it. I always wondered where it came from. The three crows,” Papa says tracing the three black birds in flight holding the navy-blue shield against the red clouds with their gold boarders, “are from the Black family crest. I imagine that the red clouds are from my side of the family, my grandmother was particular about red clouds for some reason. The shield,” he says indicating the navy-blue shield with the white-black leopard inscribed on it, under a golden star “Is part of the Blythe crest,” his finger trails to Celtic circle which entwines around the entire shield, “and this is from the Trelawney crest.” Below the crest are the initials, _ABB._ Along with the stationary are two fountain pens and a crystal inkwell. Aquila’s last gift comes with a note in an envelope. The letter only says, _you will have to wait until June 21, 1987 to claim this gift._ Inside are two contracts for two House Elves, one named Dobby and the other Kreature. I tear up again, I can give Dobby and Kreature a happier future. Kreature had been killed by Ginny when the House elf tried to stop my imprisonment.

All of us are shocked by the next sender, Cassandra Trelawney has gifted me with the missing Trelawney Grimoire, Rowena Ravenclaw’s Personal Book Collection – apparently the Ravenclaw line also descended into the Trelawney bloodline – and a silver mechanical owl from India. Not only was the owl pretty and animated (much like Pig, Ron’s owl), but apparently no mail wards could stop the owl or tracking spells could adhere to the Owl.

The last gifts give me a great pause, they are from Mortimer Mortis. First came the heirship bracelet to the Mortis family. However, most telling of the identity of the sender are the three other items in a single package – the Elder Wand, the Invisibility Cloak and the resurrection stone.” As my family ogled the priceless and mythical gifts, I wanted to bang my head against the wall, violently. _What a nightmare!_ My thoughts were interrupted by a goblin messenger.

“King Jareth, you told me to tell you of the time. It is now necessary for Mr. Black-Blythe to disembark. You have thirty minutes.” The next five minutes were crazy. As everything was packed up into my new chest and prepared for departure. Tyr shrunk down and regally curled around my shoulders.

* * *

**December 21, 1981.** I open the door to the _time chamber_ , as papa calls it, and find myself in the family parlor. The parlor is connected to a small library. Aunt Cassie, Grandpa Arty, Grandma Mel and Papa handed me letters to give to their younger selves when I arrive. Papa also warned me that I would have to wait a few hours until he appeared. He told me to read one of my new books. I take a seat of a plush blue chair in the parlor and put my chest down, enlarging it. I pick out a book, “Hogwarts: A History.” Before I begin reading, I places the four letters onto the coffee table in front of me and shrink down the chest and place it in my pocket. Tyr curled up on my chest as I read.

_Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was founded in 981 A.D., by the four magic practitioners who would revolutionize modern magical studies and educational practices. These four practitioners are Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. However, it is important to note that the initial fourth founder, Silvanus Slytherin, was replaced by Salazar Slytherin, his oldest son. Silvanus Slytherin came into disagreement over the admittance of Muggle-born witches and wizards to Hogwarts with Godric Gryffindor, his house’s former representative Knight, the sworn defender of the Slytherin bloodline. Marquise Rowena Ravenclaw and Madam Hufflepuff supported the acceptance of Muggle-born students to Hogwarts. Silvanus left Hogwarts, leaving his oldest son in his stead. Let it be known that Salazar agreed with Marquis Gryffindor over the issue. Where Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are considered progressive individuals and Ravenclaw is considered a Conservative, who cautious toward change, Salazar is a traditionalist._

_However, what separated Salazar from his father was that Salazar saw the need to bring Muggle-born students into Hogwarts for their protection and for the protection of pureblood families. This ultimately change the tone of most pureblood families to the acceptance of Muggle-born witches and wizards in their society and the efforts they put into reeducation. However, a lesser group of purebloods consider muggles inferior and, in relation, they consider muggle-born witches and wizards inferior as well. To that extent, this pureblood division does not believe that Muggle-born students have a place in Hogwarts, albeit they reluctantly allow muggle-born witches and wizards a place in their society…_      

As absolutely fascinating the book is, my eyes steadily grow tired and I am sound asleep when the book falls onto my lap.

* * *

**December 21, 1981.** The Lord of Twilight, also privately known as Earl Alessander Azrael Silas Casmir Mikhail Blythe-Trelawney, sits on his mother-of-pearl throne-like seat at the head of the Gray-Neutral faction of the British House of Legislation. The seat is positioned on a balcony above the Gray-Neutral party. The white-marble circular hall, similar to the Roman Forum, is divided into four parts. Opposite each other is the Lord of Light, Albus Dumbledore, who has declared his position publicly. Dumbledore is seated on a white granite throne-like chair. His opposite, the Lord of Darkness, who is rumored to be either Nicolas Flamel or his heir, Tommas Flamel-Slytherin, sat, shrouded in a black cloak, on a black marble throne-like chair. Between these two factions is the Gray-Neutral party and across from them is the section shared by the Lord of Nightfall, Aquila Black and the Lady of Daybreak, who only Aquila and Alessander known as Rhiannon Lovegood. Beneath the Lord of Nightfall and the Lady of Daybreak sit the Ministry officials and various unaligned politicians.

The legislative structure consisted of The House of Nobility, which has One-hundred-and-five seats with four tiers – Duke/Duchess, Marquis/Marquise, Earl/Countess and Lord/Lady – each more powerful than next. There is also the House of Elective Commons with thirty-five Seats. The House of Elective common consists of fifteen Individuals voted in based on Geographical Representation and twenty individuals representing separate Guilds. The House of Spirituals has fourteen seats – seven male spirituals and seven female spirituals. A pair, one female and one male, of spiritualists represents a prevalent faith. The Ministry Representatives hold eighteen Seats (Head of Education, Head of Magical Creatures Relations, Unspeakable Representative, Head of Goblin Affairs, Head of Aurors, Minister of Magic, Head of Foreign Affairs, Head of Agriculture, Head of Muggle Security, Head of Muggle Relations, Head of Treasury, Head of Commerce, Head of Labor, Head of Natural Resources, Head of Human Health Services, Head of Urban Development, Head of Foreign Trade and Head of Natural Development). There are five additional seats, representing the Lords and/or ladies of Magic (Twilight, Light, Darkness, Nightfall and Daybreak).

The seat for the ultimate authority remains empty since the Royal family’s murder. The two survivors’ whereabouts is unknown, but what is known is that they’re in hiding until Prince Bran of the Royal House of Pendragon-Emrys reaches majority and is crowned. The other two seats belong to the Royal Scribe, which is also empty and the First Consort of the future King, again an empty seat. Alessander cannot wait until those three seats are filled. Perhaps then, someone will have the authority to prevent Albus Dumbledore from throwing his considerable fame and fortune around to gain allies and for others to switch allegiances.

Les has the suspicion that Albus has been accepting bribes from others. There’s also the question of why the muggle-born students of Hogwarts go untested for their bloodlines. If a muggle-born claims an older bloodline, they automatically gain a seat in the House of Legislation. Les also shared the suspicion with the Lord of Nightfall and Lady of Daybreak, that Dumbledore has been keeping his students ignorant to their potential heritage and fortune, so he can line his own pockets with their fortunes and heritage. Although, how he can do it, legally or illegally, is unknown. Personally, Les firmly believes that Dumbledore should not have authority over the largest school in Britain. He has been sending out half-educated mindless sheep in the last three decades since assuming the role.

Tonight, was the Winter Solstice, Dumbledore had purposely scheduled the meeting on this day, to snub the Druidic magic practitioners. Something which even drew anger from his own faction. The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, a power-hungry fool, began the meeting. “On this evening’s agenda, we have five new legislative proposals to discuss and ten petitions.” Cornelius says this just as Les senses someone trespassing in his ancestral manor. He shoots a look at Dumbledore, but the man is glaring avidly at the cloaked Lord of Darkness. Les sends out a tendril of magic to examine his wards. His wards are intact, whatever the presence is, it is not from the outside. That only leaves two options – a house elf had popped inside, or the time chamber was used. Whichever it is, Les hopes that individual has patience considering the nature of his meeting. He cannot leave it with the doors magically barred until the conclusion of the meeting and the dragged out debates. _Fuck,_ he mentally swore.

* * *

It was late evening, after the Legislative meeting, which Dumbledore had called. The man tended to choose the most offense dates to the Druidic pureblood populace. Thankfully, the Lord of Light could only call meetings between July first and December thirty-first of every year and once a month for the six months at that. The Lord of Darkness selected meetings between January first and June thirtieth, once a month for the six months. The Lord of Twilight was given twelve meetings to choose the dates for, which irked the Lord of Light. Arcturus Black leaned back in his black-leather wingback chair as he waited for his many-greats younger cousin, Aquila Black. Aquila was the bastard son of Cygnus Black II and his lover, Garrett Capulet. Garret had carried their unexpected child and birthed him in 1964. Aquila is the half-brother of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Andromeda Black Tonks, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Caspian Capulet and Corbin Capulet. In the aftermath of the affair and pregnancy, Lana Alderwood Capulet divorced her husband, Garrett Capulet, of twelve years to marry her lover, Garrett’s younger sister, June Capulet. It had been a fucking mess.

Aquila had been named Lord of Nightfall by Mother magic giving the bastard child of the Black bloodline more prestige than he would otherwise have gained. Furthermore, it appears that Aquila would be named the Marquis Black as there was no other viable heirs. The Malfoy children were not an option. Arcturus had never approved of the illegally made marriage contract between Narcissa Black and Claudius Malfoy. A betrothal contract usually passed between the Heads of the family, Cygnus Black II, was the not the head of the fucking family, no matter the airs he and his wife put on. Arcturus casually glances at the family tapestry which holds the entirety of the Black bloodline, excluding the disownments passed before Arcturus becoming the head of the family. Arcturus had reinstated any magical children of the Black bloodline born from Marius Black and Phineas Black. Despite Walburga’s attempts, he had not disowned either Alphard Black or Sirius Black III, albeit with Sirius’s imprisonment, the Black noble title could no longer pass onto him, the rightful heir.

Arcturus abruptly freezes, staring at shock at the softly glowing name threading itself into the tapestry under cousin, Cassiopeia Black’s name, joining the Black and Blythe-Trelawney bloodline. As Arcturus stares stunned, there is a knock on his study door. Still enraptured by the thread, Arcturus makes a sound in the back on his throat, which his visitors took as permission to enter. Seventeen-years-old Aquila Black enters the study. His immediately notes the expression of stunned amazement tainted with confusion on the face of Marquis Arcturus Black. The man’s eyes are fixated on the wall beside the door. Turning on his heel, Aquila is stunned to see the new names added to the ancient tapestry, _Antares Black-Blythe_ , was clearly labeled having been born in 1972.

“That does not make sense!” Arcturus exclaims staggering to his feet to examine the new name with his fingers. Arcturus had been sorely disappointed when his grandson, Regulus Black, who was betrothed to Earl Alessander Blythe-Trelawney, had died before conceiving, carrying and giving birth to an heir combining both the Black bloodline and the Blythe bloodline. However, Cassiopeia was now connected with Alessander producing a child. Arcturus knew that Alessander or Les, could not have conceived a child with Cassie, the man couldn’t get it up for a woman. Arcturus could remember with great deal of humor and chagrin, a drunk Les telling a large-breasted barmaid, _“Please remove your udders from my face.”_ Suffice to say the poor barmaid had left a red memento across Alessander’s right cheek. The slap had surprised Les into drenching himself in ale. It was quite the evening.

“I have a cousin?” Aquila squawked in surprise, “He would be nine or almost nine.” Aquila murmured.

“I don’t know how this is possible, but I imagine I need speak with Cassie.” Arcturus says heading for the floo.

* * *

Les appeared in the private hall, meant solely for family to apparate in. The moon was shining through the blue-green stained-glass window over the cherrywood door which lead into the solarium and backdoor into the Rose garden. “Mimsy,” Les calls out, the house elf appears without fanfare, just a slight pop of displaced air, “Do I have any guests?”

“No, Master Les,” Mimsy says, “But the time chamber was making clanking and grr sounds. The parlor doors won’t budge.”

“Thank you Mimsy, please go to bed. It’s later than I thought. I will deal with the time chamber.” The house elf nods and pops away to the House elf quarters. As a child Les had explored the old estate extensively, finding the House elves’ quarters in the narrow space between the kitchen and the outer wall, warmed by the kitchen’s chimney. It was warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Each house elf family had four rooms to themselves, including a bathroom with a shower and tub. House elves nested, so there were no beds, but far too many pillows and blankets. Les had introduced his many house elves to a mattress on the floor, which they accepted reluctantly. Les also paid his house elves, three knuts a day with which they bought themselves and their children little treats. The strawberry-blond haired man makes his way up the narrow stair which leads to the family quarters, the private library and the Time chamber, with some trepidation. The parlor connected to the time chamber, also sealed shut until the master of the house opened it if someone came through to leave information.

So, Les was not prepared for the sight which met his tired eyes when he opened the door to the parlor. Four letters laid out on the table addressed to four different people – check, it was common enough – and a sleeping boy on his sofa – okay, that entitled an internal panic attack. _Why was a child sleeping on his sofa? What was the child doing using his time chamber?_ He quietly and hesitantly made his way closer to the sleeping child. _The boy was obviously of some relation to his family, but how? Maybe to his half-brother, Ramiel Trelawney, and half-sister, Sybill Trelawney?_ As Les leaned in to get a better of the boy, the cat on the boy’s chest, which did not notice at first, let out a fierce growl of discontent, waking the boy as Les reared back tripping over the coffee table and falling on his ass. The boy was awake. Les watches as the boy calms his cat before looking around for the source of the disturbance. His eyes settle on Les and his big blue-gray eyes seem to grow in size.

Abruptly, Les had a child on sitting on his stomach, “Papa!” the boy exclaims hugging. Les looks around wildly before realizing that the child was referring to him as Papa. He pats the monkey-child clinging to him hesitantly on the back, making the boy cling tighter. “Umm…” Les says, “I don’t recall having a child.” The monkey-child leans back releasing Les. Giving the man a grin with a little embarrassment coloring it, he replies.

“Err… I suppose that’s because you adopted me today, well five years and six months in the future.” The boy turns and picks up one of the letters and hands it to Les. It’s written in my own handwriting. The child pokes at his cat, who has taken over the warm spot on the couch before the fire, heated up by the little boy’s body. The cat bats away his finger halfheartedly. The child sighs, plopping down on the floor. After staring at the two for a long moment, Les opens the letter.

 

**_Dearest Self,_ **

_I write this letter knowing you will have many questions. I cannot answer them all. Today, I adopted the child I raised from December 21, 1981, to the current date, June 21, 1986. His name is Antares Black-Blythe. Any test performed on him will confirm his identity as your son and his surrogate’s, Cassiopeia Black’s, son. The boy’s original identity was Harry James Potter. He arrived at Gringotts looking for an escape for Dumbledore’s manipulations and we were waiting for him. I know that this raises all sorts of questions. I will answer one and you will not ask our son anything. He’s a traveler from a parallel dimension who found himself in his younger body in this dimension. He has been hurt and betrayed. You will not learn this from him, but from the family magic. He is nine years old. The Goblin King arranged for an adoption method which is relatively obscured. He is our son in blood, magic and flesh. Be careful with him. He’s been through a lot and is delicate. Although he may protest, give him a lot of physical affection._

_Now onto other subjects. In 1983, we will remove Albus Dumbledore from Hogwarts after he targets Ana for his dark pureblood heritage. To begin the process, I have listed a number of sources you should contact and investigate. You will want to bring his surrogate, Lord of Nightfall, Lady of Daybreak, Marquis Black and wife in on this consider their invested interest in both Ana and the removal of Albus Dumbledore. Nicolas Flamel must replace Dumbledore._

**_Take care of our son,_ **

**_Shower him with love,_ **

**Les Blythe-Trelawney,**

**PS:** _On the second page, I have included businesses we should invest in and who wins certain Quidditch games of interest._

Les looks up at his son and finds the child asleep. He sighs, stands and picks up his son. He can’t help the reverence he regards the nine-year-old with when the boy curls into his chest seeking warmth and comfort. As Les leaves the room, the cat springs to his feet and trails after them.

* * *

**To Be Continued**


	4. First Movement of the Sonata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Quick Chapter - Meeting the family, Aquila Black, a Weasley Christmas, a New Years Party and an Attack.

#  **Once Upon a Time Turner**

**_Book One of the Memories of Ghosts Series_ **

**Explicit Adult Content – _Read at your Own discretion_**

Created, Written and Illustrated by k505

 _Additional Illustrations by_ No One Currently – Looking for Artists

 _Edited and Proofread by_ No One Currently – Looking for Editors

**_Dedicated to my Favorite Time Travel-Reincarnation Fanfiction Authors_ **

* * *

 

 **(Full) Disclaimer:** I do not own JK Rowling’s Magical World (The Harry Potter Series (books 1-7/Films 1-8), Quidditch throughout the Ages (book), The Tales of Beedle the Bard (book), Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (script), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (film)) or the Labyrinth film. They belong to their respective creators and various publishers. No, money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This fictional story is the product of my imagination and shared for entertainment purposes, not for profit.

 **Future Main Pairing(s):** Tom M. Riddle Jr./Lucius Malfoy/Severus Snape/Wyatt Ravenswood/Charles Urquhart/Antares Black (HP)

 **Future/Established Side Pairing(s):** Marius Gaunt ǀ Alt. Dark Lord/Bellatrix Black/Evan Rosier/Barty Crouch Jr./Alecto Carrow/Hestia Carrow/Flora Carrow/Pansy Parkinson/Nadia Nott, Undecided/Reinaldo McNair, Arcturus Black/Melania McMillan, Charlus Potter/Dorea Black, Altair Potter/Elizabeth McKinnon, Joshua Ryder/Aurelius Potter, Pollux Black/Irma Crabbe, Cygnus Black/Druella Rosier, Theodore Tonks/Andromeda Black, Magnus Ravenswood/Arthur Weasley/Byrne McCaffrey, Oliver Wood/Francis “Frankie” Belby, Gregory “Greg” Belby/Angelina Johnson, Percival Rookwood/Audrey Whittle, Aquila Black/Julius Potter/Nicodemus Diggory/Daemon Bones, Alessander Blythe/Sirius Black, Vernon Dursley/Adele Addison, Paul Martin/Petunia Dursley, Dudley Dursley/Lavinia Richards, Scorpius Malfoy/Astoria Greengrass, Corbin Capulet/Erin Lovegood, Roger Davies/Cedric Diggory/Isaiah Holmes-Moriarty, Bran Kensington/Erik Lovegood/Aistan Kamel/Tao-Peng Lin/Basilio Leone/Indra Kumar/Oleander Malfoy, Draco Malfoy/Lysander Trelawney, Laurence Scamander/Ophelia Malfoy/Nymphadora Tonks, Odysseus Malfoy/Hermione Holmes-Moriarty, Neville Longbottom/Hannah Abbott, Percival Graves/Newton Scamander, Theseus Scamander/Leta Lestrange, Abraxas Malfoy/Queenie Goldstein, Claudius Malfoy/Narcissa Black, Rodolphus Lestrange/Rabastan Lestrange, Nikola Watson/Dianna Potter, Remus Lupin/Fiona Wellington/Josie Martinez/Elysia Frost/Claire Morten/Rhea DuBois, Auric D’Arcy/Amelie Chastain-Leone/Henrik Frost, Xenophilius Lovegood/Aleksander Chastain-Leone, Rolf Scamander/Luna Lovegood

* * *

 

**Chapter Three:**

First Movement of the Sonata

 _“Where fantasy and reality perpetually combine, this is the madness born of my mind.”_ – k505

 

 **December 22, 1981.** “Cassie!” Marquis Black calls through the floo, imperiously, “Cassie!”

“What bit you in the arse this time, cousin Arty?” Cassiopeia asks crudely, in her thick Scottish accent. She drops a pile of books on the library table. A pair of small silver reading-spectacles are perched on the end of her nose. Her sleeves were rolled up displaying her slender arms covered in ink stains.

“Well, darling cousin, you look marvelous for a woman with a nine-year-old child, whom you never told me about!” Arcturus snaps back. The woman looks at Arcturus as if he’s finally lost it.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cassie asks.

“Antares Black-Blythe, the child you no doubt surrogated for Lord Blythe.” Arcturus replies.

“Do you need your head checked, cousin? I have never been pregnant. Pregnancy is beneath me.” Cassie says.

“Then how did a child’s name attach itself to yours and Alessander’s on the Black family tapestry a few minutes ago?”

“Budge up, Arty, I’m coming through to see this.” Cassie says approaching the fireplace. Arcturus Black disappears from the fire, and steps backwards into his study where his wife and Aquila are waiting. He shakes his head at Aquila and the young man shrugs in confusion. Melania looks both curious and excited as Cassie steps through the flames. She turns on the spot to look at the tapestry between the door and the fireplace. “Well at least you’re not insane, Arty. What the fuck!”

“I have no idea, you foul-mouthed shrew!” Arcturus snaps.

“Well, we will just have to ask Les about this!” Cassie says grabbing a pinch of the green floo powder and throwing it into the flames before anyone can stop her. Her head appears in the fire of the main library. “Les!” She hollers, “Les get you’re pretty and perky bum in the library, we need to talk!” Les is appears from the back of the library and eyes the woman hesitantly. “Why the fuck does the Black family tapestry think we have a child?”

“Well, that’s quite a story. Why don’t you and your cousin, Arcturus, come through.” Les say tiredly, Cassie’s head disappears for several moments before she pops back in.

“Cousin Mel and Aquila are coming too.” Cassiopeia insists stepping through the floo into Blythe manor.

“Fine,” Les groans. It’s four in the morning, Les knows that Mimsy is already up at this hour. House Elves need less sleep than humans, this is something Les is acutely jealous of and has even informed his house elves of that fact. His house elves find it hilarious. Les is not pleased.

Cassie enters the main library, all too comfortable in the room since she periodically sneaks in to borrow books after being granted access by Les. Cassie has the skill to rebind books, restore old texts, reweave the magic protection spells and cast anticopying enchantments on the books. It’s a rare and highly sought after skillset in the magical world and she receives many commissions to restore old books. She also has a vast library in her own home. It is massive, considering that while she casts anticopying spells, it doesn’t stop her from making her own copies. Cassie is something of a bibliophile.    

“Mimsy,” Les calls as the others step through the floo. The house elf pops into the library, “Mimsy, please fetch us some snacks, tea and coffee and the letters on my desk for the people here.” Mimsy nods quickly and pops away. “Cassiopeia, Marquis Arcturus Black and Consort, Marquise Melania Black, and Lord Nightfall.” Les greets, “If you would join me for an early breakfast?”

Marquis Black rubs his forehead to stave off his budding headache as his wife, cousin, and Aquila graciously take seats at the large, living redwood table in the library. Moments later, the house elf, Mimsy reappears with two large floating trays. One filled with mugs and cups for tea and coffee and their dressings (sugar, cream and milk) and the other filled with jams, toasts, meats, cheese and exotic fruits. The house elf hands over the letters to Les. The living redwood table sprouts a long inch-high bar, about five inches wide, down the center to place the trays on with a deep creaky-groan. The house elf pats the table in thanks before popping away.

“What I am about to share with you,” Les says pouring himself a mug of coffee, “Is a Blythe family secret. I ask that you do not share this with anyone else unless your very lives are endangered by it.” The others nod in agreement. Taking bits of bread and jam or bread, cheese and meat for their early morning breakfast.

“My many greats-grand Aunt, Livia Claudia Blythe, was a spell crafter and runes mistress, a very talented woman and one who was revolutionary. She pioneered the Department of Mysteries. It was because of her that the Department of Mysteries inducted women into the Department before the witch’s rights movement. She inadvertently lent the knowledge which would be necessary to create time turners. That being said, she created a room which only those of Blythe Blood can enter, a room which sends the family member five years and six months into the past to pass on a letter to themselves. As you probably have guessed, since the individual already exists in this time, they are then erased after leaving the knowledge behind. However, to my shock early this morning, I found a little boy sleeping in the parlor attached to the time room. A child, who upon waking called me, Papa.”

“Antares Black-Blythe.” Arcturus concluded.

“My letter to myself, explains his origins as Harry James Potter, who was adopted by myself and Cassiopeia in a very obscure and rare ritual done by the goblins in 1986. I imagine they tailored the ritual to age him, because opposed to being six-years-old, he is currently nine-years-old. I imagine he’s still here because currently, there is no Antares Black-Blythe in existence. He is also wearing the Heirship titles of Blythe, Black and Trelawney.” Les says. Arcturus gives a gasp of both surprise and relief, which is strangely echoed by Aquila and Melania. Arcturus turns to look at Aquila pointedly.

“Arcturus,” Aquila admits sheepishly, “I never wanted to be Marquis Black, I have too many responsibilities currently.”

Les hands the letters to the four individuals, which they are surprised to be in their own script. They open them carefully, reading them in depth with a range of expressions. “Les, has anyone other child ever come through the time room permanently?”

“Yes,” Les says after swallowing his bite of toast, “Cassandra Trelawney’s adoptive grandson, Leonardo Crispin Blythe-Trelawney, who was my grandfather. He rescued the Blythe family bloodline from being extinguished by a minor Dark Lord, who was the precursor to Grindelwald. With the deaths of my great-great Aunt and Uncle and their children, the Ministry planned to take the Blythe seat with my Great-Grandfather’s death. However, Grandpa Leo popped up five years prior to my great-grandfather’s death making him the heir to the Blythe and Trelawney bloodlines.”

“Where there any medical difficulties or issues with your Grandfather?” Aquila asks.

“My grandfather lived far longer and in better health than either of my parents. He saw me complete my Hogwarts Education and earn my secondary degrees before he passed away peacefully when I was twenty-three.” Les says taking a sip of coffee. “If anything, the ritual increases the likelihood of a long life due to its creation, but that’s information which I have only a basic understanding of. You would need to seek out that information from the source, Aunty Livy’s portrait. However, I doubt you’d been able to pull much out of her, it’s like trying to pull the teeth of a manticore.” Les says, Cassie huffs in displeasure.

“Well,” Cassie says putting her letter back in its envelope, “Seems I will be moving in. I expect a workshop here, Les.”

“What?” Les croaks in surprise. “You can’t just…” Les complains but stops when Cassie shoots him a look.

“I can, and I will. Antares is my child as much as he is yours.” Cassie says firmly. Les sags in his seat mourning the loss of his _private_ manor. He nods his head in agreement before an argument can begin.

“Where is Antares?” Arcturus asks.

“Asleep, he was exhausted waiting up for me.” Les admits, “Mimsy will tell me when he wakes up.”

“Perhaps we should all take a break and come back after Antares wakes up.” Arcturus says giving Cassie a pointed look when it appears she is about to protest, “I would certainly like to freshen up before meeting my heir.” Arcturus says.

“Fine,” Cassie says, “I will go pack up a bag and have my elves begin packing the more delicate equipment for my commissions.” Cassiopeia murmurs. She mumbles to herself a long list of materials as she exits through the fireplace. Completely ignoring Les’s dismayed expression and Arcturus’s amusement. Aquila trails after Cassiopeia while tucking his letter into his breast pocket. Arcturus offers his arm to his wife and they exit shortly thereafter. Les ponders on how quickly his life has changed.

* * *

Antares wakes slowly. He rubs his face into the plush feathered pillow supporting his neck and head. He pulls the thick feather comforter to his chin and turns into the pillow with an appreciative sigh. Slowly one pale blue-gray eye opens and then the other. He blinks the fogginess of sleep from his eyes. There is a narrow double-door leading out onto a gray flagstone balcony fairly covered in thorny vines and snow. There is another door on the other side of the balcony. The wood of both sets of glass doors are made of pine and at the top of the doors are narrow rectangle with stained glass. The stained glass of the doors in Antares’s room depicts a series of roots in the form of the Celtic knots. The other pair of doors across the balcony depicts the branches of a flowering tree. The balcony doors in his room are framed by white linen curtains which are almost transparent. Glancing around the room, Antares notes that he was sleeping on a queen-sized four poster bed made of pine. The sheets and blankets are various hues of green and blue. The curtains around the bed are the same white linen of the curtains hanging around the door. The walls are painted a turquoise color with pine baseboards and pinewood flooring. Slipping off the bed backwards, Antares’s feet meet the plush seafoam-blue carpet under the bed.

There are three narrow doors leading off of the bedroom. One Antares’s finds led into an impressive gray-white stone and porcelain bathroom with a sunken tub and a massive shower. There is a bathroom counter with a raised basin for the sink and a toilet. The toilet and sink are divided from the shower and bathtub by Japanese rice paper divider, called a Shoji, but unlike a Shoji it does not slide back and forth. Realizing his trunk is still in his pocket, much to his chagrin, Antares reenters the bedroom and wandlessly resizing the trunk. He places the trunk at the end of his bed. Antares selects an outfit similar to the one he had slept in. The silver-gray waistcoat is replaced by a black one which matches his black trousers. The collared shirt does not have a mandarin collar and it’s a pale silvery-white opposed to white-matte. Antares returns to the bathroom to shower and do his morning hygiene routine.

Exiting the bathroom once more, as he wandlessly dries his hair, Antares discovers that his bed was made in his absence. One narrow door has been left open into a small personal parlor. The parlor is painted in pale-green with the same pine flooring and baseboards. There is an olive-green area rug. On top of the area rug is a dark-green loveseat and two armchairs, one of which is occupied by his father. Les is reading, his foot propped up on the rectangular pine-coffee table. He looks up as Antares pauses in the doorway. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Les says softly. “Are you ready for an inquisition?”

“An inquisition?” Antares asks hesitantly.

“Your other relatives discovered your existence last night. Marquis Arcturus Black, Marquise Melania Black, Miss Cassiopeia Black and Mr. Aquila Black will be present today to speak with us.”

Antares nods thoughtfully. “I haven’t met Cousin Aquila yet. What is he like?” Antares asks.

“Aquila is Aquila. I suggest you form your own opinion.” Les says calmly. Antares nods firmly. “How do you like the Heir suite? Would you prefer a different set of rooms?” Les asks hesitantly.

“The bedroom is wonderful. Do you mind if I explore the rest of the rooms in the Suite?” Antares asks, “But I think it’s amazing so far.” Antares’s notes the unlit gray-flagstone fireplace on the left wall and two more pine doors on either side of the fireplace. There was a larger third door behind his father, opposite the bedroom’s door, which no doubt led to the hallway.

“We have approximately twenty minutes, go ahead.” Les says. With a bright smile, which lights up Antares’s face the small boy does so, opening the door to the left of the fireplace. The room, Antares quickly realizes, is one of the house’s turrets. The room is octangular with three windows in front and it shares the balcony from the bedroom. The had pine floors and baseboards. The walls are wallpapered with thick olive-green and gold stripes. Three of the walls are lined with massive bookcases with a ladder to reach the top. There’s a plush emerald-green carpet under an old and beat up, lumpy brown-gold coach. The couch looks heavenly. There’s two green overstuffed armchairs and one blue armchair. A pine coffee table sits in the middle of the room. _This_ , Antares thinks, _is his reading room_. Antares is tempted, very tempted to sleep in here. Although the shelves are bare of books currently. _That is something to be remedied_.

Turning back around, Antares leaves to room with a smile. He opens the door on the right of the fireplace. It is a personal study. Again, the floor is made of pine and so are the baseboards. There are two windows in this room which face a garden and a massive solarium attached to the house. The room has a massive four-footed desk made of pine, which sits on an emerald-green carpet. The walls are papered in the same wallpaper as the reading room – olive-green and gold stripes. There are two low shelves, over which are two empty portraits, and a green armchair pulled up to the desk. Otherwise the room is bare. Exiting the room and closing the door behind him, Antares throws himself at Les. “Best suite ever!”

“I am glad you approve, although there are rooms with newer reading rooms and more fashionable studies.”

“Nope, I don’t care. This feels homey and I love it.” Antares says.

“Alright, let’s get going. We’re meeting the others in the solarium.” Antares nods excitedly eager to see the massive room which looked like a rectangular greenhouse with a circular top in the center of the manor, which he saw from the study window. Antares eyes are wide as Les leads his son from the family wing to the Solarium. The solarium can only be reached through the main entrance hall or the foyer. The foyer is rectangular with two sweeping polished mahogany staircases with pale-bronze runners. The floor is made of white marble and so is the balcony which the stairs lead into on the second floor. There are six fireplaces in the foyer and three doors.

 In the middle of the two wood doors, one a small closet, and the other much larger double door leading to the public first floor rooms, is a glass door which leads into the glass and patina copper solarium. The Solarium is filled with exotic magical plants, winding stone paths and tropical birds. In the center of the Solarium is a golden-wood pergola draped in colorful silk curtains and  flowering vines. There is a chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the pergola. It lights up giving off a warm glow, as Les and Antares take seats waiting for their guests.

As Antares is about to open his mouth and ask a question of Les, his other relatives enter the solarium. Arcturus and Melania look considerably younger and Aunt Cassie has lost a number of wrinkles. Ana studies Aquila curiously. Aquila Black is barely an adult. He is handsome, very handsome. He had chin-length chocolate-brown curls which soften the sharp angles of his face. His square jaw has a cleft in it. His skin is a creamy-white with golden-brown tints from the sun. His eyes are large, and a deep blue-green color framed by long eyelashes. He is tall, taller than Grandpa Arty and Papa and slightly broader about the shoulders. He has corded muscles and defined pectorals. He’s stunning. Aquila is wearing a white cotton t-shirt and a pair of black slacks. 

* * *

Cousin Aquila lifts an eyebrow at my blatant staring and I blush. I quickly advert my eyes as papa calls for Mimsy. “Mimsy and Talbot, please bring the lunch appetizers.” There is a pop and two house elves are placing down platters of dainty finger sandwiches. The male elf quickly sets the table with blue plates, a teapot, teacups, teacup saucers, silverware, white napkins, tall glasses and a pitcher of iced tea. The dainty silverware are polished until they shine.  

“Hello,” I greet the male house elf, softly and slowly, “My name is Antares Black-Blythe, what is your name?”

The house elf rolls his eyes, “My name is Talbot. I may be a house elf, but I am not mentally challenged. I do hope you’re not either.” He says his every vowel dripping with sarcasm. I burst out laughing as the Black family stares aghast at Talbot. Mimsy is wringing her hands nervously, while Papa rubs his temples.  

“I like you Talbot.” I announce cheerfully, “I am sorry, I knew this house elf who was so excitable that if I didn’t speak calmly he’d go punish himself or go cry all over me.” 

“Well he was a gibbering idiot.” Talbot says.

“Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Before he entered into my service he was viciously abused by his former owners. He risked his life to save mine. I helped free him from his previous owners. He was one of my best and truest friends,” I say holding back my tears, “He sacrificed himself to save my life. I will always miss him.”

“What was his name?” Cassie asks, her voice laced with both concern and surprise. No doubt she had never thought of House elves outside of their work. I smile at my new family although my eyes are watery.

“His name was Dobby.” I answer, “His mate was Winkey.” I add in, noting Talbot visibly straighten at Winkey’s name.

“As interesting as this conversation is, perhaps we should get down to business.” Grandpa Arty says sternly. “We must discuss your education.” I nod in agreement, straightening on my seat. Of course, I knew pureblood children and half-blood children who were raised in the magical world received an advanced education. I was eager to hear their proposals. “Now, Les and I spoke briefly about this through the floo and we decided for every class we insist that you take you will have the option of taking one of your own selection.” Grandpa Arty says.

“That sounds fair.” I agree.  

“Alright, our first proposal is Etiquette and Pureblood decorum.” Grandpa Arty says, “You were raised by Muggles who know nothing of how our culture works.” I nod in agreement. 

“I wish to add posture and dance.” Grandma Melania chimes in. I wince at the word _dance_ but nod hesitantly. 

“Alright, I would like to learn Acrobatic Gymnastics and Parkour.” I say calmly.

“What is Acrobatic Gymnastics and Parkour?” Aquila asks hesitantly.

“They are primarily muggle sports, but the French and Russian Magical populaces train in them as well. In Acrobatic Gymnastics, the individual is capable of flipping over other’s heads. The Acrobatic Gymnastics study results in the participant becoming stronger, faster and very flexible. They are also far more aware of  their bodies and their surroundings. Parkour is learning the economics of movement. The goal of parkour is to reach a destination with the least amount of movement and touching surfaces.”

“And this will help you how?” Grandpa Arty asks skeptically.

“Imagine this, in dueling a stationary object is an easier target. If I could be in constant movement I would be less of a target.” I say cautiously. “Two other courses I would be interested are dueling and Martial Arts.”

“I imagine Martial Arts is some sort of physical offensive and defense tactic?” Papa muses.

“If I were to ever lose my wand, I wouldn’t be defenseless without it.” I answer. “Weapons can be included in styles of Martial Arts. There are innumerable amounts of martial arts styles.”

“I propose courses on Languages and Politics.” Papa says. Again, I nod in agreement.

“I would like to add Diplomacy and Magical World Cultures.” Aquila says, “Maybe Magical World History as well.”

“I am amendable to all three, but I would suggest both Magical and Muggle World History. Our worlds, despite what me may believe, are intrinsically connected. I would suggest looking into investing in muggle businesses, but to do so one must know muggle history and culture.” I argue calmly.

“I suggest Hogwarts Prep including Potions prep, Magical Theory and Basic Latin.” Aunt Cassie adds in.

 “How about Arithmancy and Runes?” I ask hopefully.

“And family magics and histories.” Grandpa Arty says in a conclusive tone of voice.  I nod in agreement. “Cassie and Les, I am sure you two can create a schedule for these studies for the next two years. Since, it is a full schedule, I will waive the social parties and ministry dinners I would usually bring my heir to. However, I insist we have family dinners and spend holidays together.” 

_I often wonder, am I worth the gift these people have given me? This gift of unconditional love and acceptance. Sometimes, in my darkest moments, between living and overthinking, I struggle to accept my worth. I sometimes think that it was my fault that I had fallen for Ginny’s plot. I feel weak, vulnerable and I am terrified that if I open up my heart once more I will be betrayed. I feel that my idiocy resulted in how things had turned out – Hermione’s sacrifice and the Weasley’s violation of magical society. Was I so desperate for love that I willingly blinded myself? My heart aches and I want to curl in on myself, to hide from the world. To hide from judgmental eyes and whispers. Most of all I want to hide from myself. People are people. They will always have their own agenda, but the question is - does their agenda include my happiness and health or are they using me for their own gain. I am scared to trust and love again, but at every turn these individuals prove themselves to me again and again. Soon it will be my turn to prove myself to them._

* * *

**December 25, 1981.** In a sprawling house in Ottery St. Catchpole, lives the Weasley family. While not ridiculously wealthy, the Weasley family are by no means poor. They live comfortably as upper middle class. Arthur Weasley had been denied the Weasley noble titles and fortune despite being the first born child of Lord Septimus Weasley and Lady Cedrella Weasley nee Black. He couldn’t quite recall why, but he was certain it had something to do with his marriage to Molly. Never the less, the family was prosperous and healthy, despite what little of the Weasley estate he possessed. He had inherited a large swatch of land in Ottery St. Catchpole, which consisted of hilly grassland. On this hilly grassland,  he had built his home. The Weasley home was roughly the shape of a square with a large courtyard in its center. It stands two stories tall and is built like the muggle homes in Bibury, England. Stone walls and weathered grey shingle roofs cover in moss and ivy.

The kitchen is large with a stone hearth and floor. Whitewashed walls and windows with wooden frames, which are painted blue. Spices and dried herbs hang from the kitchen rafters, much like the pots and pans on hooks. A cauldron bubbles peacefully in the kitchen as Molly bustles around with a grim frown on her face. The living room has golden-wood floors and white walls, big brown couches, a coffee table and a large playpen for the youngest children. A Christmas tree stands in one corner towering seven feet in height. The angel on top of the tree is smooched into their ceiling. The tree is decorated with German wooden Christmas decorations, colorful glass muggle balls, spelled-preserved icicles and spell-preserved snow. Arthur has stuck several muggle cinnamon air fresheners, shaped like candy cane, on the boughs. Attached to the kitchen and opposite the living room is a large hall with a table down the center and number of low benches. It is their humble dining room. Also, on the first floor are two half-bathrooms, a library, a laundry room (used frequently during the winter months) and Arthur’s study. The second floor houses a number of modest bedrooms, six bathrooms, and one master bedroom. There are enough bedrooms for each child to have their own, but the three-year-old twins insist on sharing one.

It is still quite early as Molly is baking the bread and pulling out the jam for the toast. “Good Morning Mum,” greets eleven-year-old Bill Weasley. He covers his yawn and blinks the sleep from his eyes as he wanders into the room dressed in his gray pajamas and a blue robe.

Molly frowns at Bill for a moment before returning his greeting, “Good morning Bill.” She glances up at the clock, “Please wake up your father and your siblings. It’s almost time for breakfast. Please tell them to wash up and bring Ginny and Ron down.” Bill nods warily, there has always something about his mother which makes him shy away from her. He is quick to abide.

The snow drifts hugged the house and a light snowfall continues to bury the house. Bill takes the steps two at the time, mentally reminding himself to pick up his house shoes before returning to the first floor. The house is a bit drafty today. He enters the master bedroom and calls out to Arthur, “Dad, wake up.” He says softly, “Dad, wake up!” his father stirs and opens an eye.

“It’s time already?” Arthur groans, Bill gives his father a sympathetic smile before leaving the room to rouse the others.

Waking up the twins always proves an interesting affair due to the traps they set around their beds. Charlie and Percy are far more easily roused. Bill and Charlie change Ginny’s and Ron’s diapers before carrying them down. “Gifts, gifts, gifts!” the twins chant as they thump their way down the stairs.

“After breakfast!” Molly says hands on her hips, ordering the children into the dining room with a wooden spoon. Bill puts Ginny in her bassinette as Charlie struggles to put Ron in his high chair. Ron pouting is placed in the high chair. He’s lost a sock in the struggle and is pulling irritated, at the collar of his jammies. Molly enters the room placing platters filled with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits and gravy onto the table. The food is quickly devoured and the twins’ race into the living room. “If you open a single gift without us I will take all your gifts away for a month.” Molly calls after them. There are two groans of protest, but Bill knows the twins will behave for now. Bill and Charlie quickly carry the platters back to the kitchen and place them in the sink. Arthur gathers the plates and silverware while Percy collects the mugs one at a time. Molly finishes her morning tea as they move around her. Arthur casually flicks his wand at the dirty dishes and pans. The sponge begins to scrub at the dirty pans and pots.

They head into the living room. Molly turns on the wireless wizarding radio and Christmas music begins to play over the waves. She exits for a moment, returning with mugs of hot chocolate, she passes everyone their own mug. “Alright everyone choose one gift.” Molly instructs. There’s a mad scramble and the Christmas tree tilts threateningly towards the fireplace, luckily there’s no fire lit. “Careful, careful!” Molly shouts. As Arthur’s back is turned, she pulls out a little bottle and adds the contents to her husband’s hot chocolate. She slips the bottle into her pocket and murmurs, “Merry Christmas to me.”

The family unwraps present after present and ooh and aww over their loot. Molly receives handmade tea cozies from Charlie, three cookbooks from Bill, an a “Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions” Certificate and a “Salon” Certificate from Arthur. From Percy and Bill, she receives an album of photos. Bill had gotten Percy a camera last year. She had known they were working a project since this summer, but it was quite a surprise. From the twins she received handmade jewelry made of paper and strings. She thanks them profusely, tickling their bellies as they hug her.

Arthur had received a handmade knit scarf, mittens and scarf from Charlie in a dark red, which thankfully didn’t clash with his ginger hair. Bill and Charlie had saved up to purchase three leather journals. Bill had gotten his father a black winter’s robe which was lined with white fleece and its hood had white fur sown in. Arthur notes that Bill had replaced all the buttons with large mother of pearl buttons engraved with a lion’s head by hand. Percy had gotten him, at first glimpse appeared to be a leather box with a handle. Percy quickly explained it was a muggle luggage, called a briefcase, in which they carrier their work papers. Arthur was impressed. Molly had gotten him Law books, which he wasn’t remotely interested in. Molly consistently hinted at him to continue his education in Law, which had caused them several arguments and headaches. He thanked her for the gift anyway. Fred and George had made him a paperweight from a smooth river rock which they had decorated with paint. Bill on the behalf of Ron and Ginny had purchased Arthur a muggle fountain pen and ink.

Arthur had purchased Bill an excitable female barn owl, whom Bill promptly named Dizzy for the way she kept circling him in the air and hopping around almost drunkenly. Arthur had also bought Bill several thick tomes on Magical theory and artist’s paints. Charlie had picked up a book on runes for Bill and a roll of canvas. While Percy, the ever observant, had purchased his older brother Enchanter’s goggles, which could be used in curse breaking, spell crafting and warding, and a book of Enchanting. Molly had knit Bill a sweater in maroon and blue. Fred and George had somehow gotten hold of a tiny wood-bead necklace with a wood four-leaf clover charm and two red glass beads.  

Charlie had received a little lizard from Arthur, the size of his index finger. The lizard was promptly named “Drago”. Bill had purchased Charlie a rare Self-Updating copy of Newt Scamander’s “Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them,” with the man’s signature and a pair of dragon-hide gloves. Bill had also gotten Charlie an Adventurer’s field Kit, which included all sorts of age friendly gear. Molly had knit Charlie a blue and white sweater. Percy had dug up an old and used copy of “Dragon Handler’s Guide,” which surprised everyone. Fred and George gave Charlie an identical wood necklace to Bill’s, however they had replaced the four-leaf clover charm with a wooden dragon figurine and green glass beads opposed to red.    

Percy received a blue and grey sweater from Molly. Fred and George had picked out two leather journals for their older brother. Bill had picked out several thick tomes on basic Arithmancy, called “The Gifted Arithmancer” and “The Foundation of Arithmancy”. It might be considered a little too much for a five-year-old, but Bill was certain that his precocious little brother would figure them out. Charlie had purchased Percy a bottomless messenger back and several muggle pencils, a quill and ink set and a certificate to purchase parchment. Arthur purchased Scabbers a bunch of mousey treats, despite that he was a rat. Arthur had also given Percy some basic famous autobiographies of talented and educated wizards and witches. The last gift was a child’s watch, which caused an uproar because Fred and George wanted one too.

Under the impression that Fred and George tended to share everything, Molly had given matching crimson and gold sweaters. Meanwhile Bill had purchased Fred a child’s potions kit and George a child’s runes kit, which did not please Molly, but earned beaming grins from Arthur and the twins. Bill made them promise to always have Charlie, Percy, him or Mom and Dad with them when they used them. They agreed pouting. After they’d agreed, Bill and Charlie pulled out two other gifts for the twins. Bill had gotten Fred some basic ingredients and Charlie had gotten George Runic goggles. Charlie also purchased both of them little notebooks and muggle pencils, crayons and markers. Arthur had gotten Fred muggle picture puzzles and for George he had gotten a book of word search puzzles. Percy had gotten his younger brothers a bunch of sticker books, a muggle picture books entitled “How Things Work” and the other called “The History of Everything.” He’d also bought them the entire collection of Muggle, “I Spy” books.    

Ron had gotten a ton of plushies and wooden puzzles. He’d thrown a fit and cried until he was exhausted. He hadn’t appreciated any of his considerable gifts. He kept eyeing the “toys” belonging to his siblings. Ginny was given a new rattle and tiny knit hat, knit gloves and knit socks in pink. A bib and several changes of jammies and a knit teddy black bear and blue elephant. She was soon asleep clinging to her new teddy bear.

By the end of the day of presents and rich food, they collapsed in their beds exhausted and bellies full.

* * *

**December 31, 1981, 9:34 pm.** Arcturus Black waits in the parlor for his guests. He has reluctantly offered an invite to his wayward cousin, Andromeda Tonks nee Black, her muggle-born husband, Edward Tonks, and their progeny, Nymphadora Tonks. Andromeda’s sister, Bellatrix, is incarcerated, and her other sister, Narcissa, is hosting the Malfoy New Years’ Party with her brother-in-law, Lucius. Also invited are Cassiopeia (who for once was coming), his heir, Antares Black-Blythe and his father, Alessander Blythe-Trelawney. Aquila plans to stop by later after an emergency meeting with the Minister of Magic, Bagnold, and the Lady of Daybreak. Also invited are his Cousin Pollux Black and his wife, Irma Crabbe Black. Pollux’s their first son, Alphard Black. Alphard will be escorted by his fiancé, Marquis Cassius Prince. It will sting Vasal Lord Lucius Malfoy that his own Marquis, to whom he was beholden, is attending the Black family gathering opposed to his party. Arcturus is still quite angry at both the Malfoy family and Cygnus Black II for arranging a marriage contract between Claudius and Narcissa without his permission. For all his airs, Cygnus Black II is not Marquis Black. Cygnus and Arcturus are not on speaking terms.

His beautiful wife, Melania, is dressed in a stunning floor-length turquoise dress, with off-the-shoulder straps, made of silk and satin. Her blond hair was pulled up into a 1960’s big bouffant with a French twist. She is stunning, he tells her this. She laughs softly, sweetly and Arcturus falls in love with her all over again. “Grandpa Arty!” Came the excited voice of his nine-year-old heir. Les is following his son and smiles ruefully as Ana tries throws himself at his Grandpa. Arcturus grabs ahold of the boy to prevent him a lap full of excitable grandson. He picks up the slender boy and deposits him on the settee next to him. “Are Cousin Andromeda, Mr. Tonks and Dora really invited?” He asks eagerly. There’s the reason that he invited the three, to make his grandson smile.

“I invited them since you wanted to see them, but I do not know if they will come,” Arcturus says. “Now, straighten yourself up. You’re a little gentleman not the pig boy.” Arcturus says sternly, Ana giggles, but straightens his shirt and the creases in his neat dark-gray trousers. He’s dressed in a dark-gray waistcoat over a long-sleeved midnight-blue dress shirt. He’s wearing the Black, Blythe and Trelawney inheritance jewelry. Les enters next, dressed almost identically to his son, save the coloration. His pants and waistcoat are black, while the color of his shirt is a cream-color. His hair is tied back in a low ponytail. Cassie enters dressed in a mid-thigh bohemian dress in gray, white and blue, tied at the waist to show off her slender figure, and with cream stockings underneath and leather boots. It’s more casual than Arcturus and Melania had hoped, but there is no arguing with Cassie. “Hello, Arcturus,” Les greets shaking his hand, “I have almost completed the paperwork for this imp’s tutors.”

“That’s wonderful, did you use the references and companies I suggested?” Arcturus asks.

“Of course.” Les agrees. Melania is frowning at Cousin Cassie who is scanning the books in the parlor as Mel and Ana talk about different magical theories, which Ana is reading about. More of, Ana is explaining theories to his Grandma Mel, with interesting and well developed comparisons. _Ana would make a good educator,_ Arcturus thinks, _he is already developing as a talented orator_.

Pollux enters with his wife Irma. Pollux, like his sister, Cassiopeia, has blond hair although his hair is considerably shorter. Irma Crabbe Black has chestnut-brown hair which has a soft red glow to her curls. Her eyes are a pale-green. It is fortunate that unlike the Crabbe female’s male counterparts, who are large, bulky and rather dimwitted, Irma is intelligent, witty and tall and slender. Irma is dressed in cream-colored, lacy dinner dress with a layered skirt. Her husband is dressed in a suit with a silver pocket watch. Their first son, Alphard is the only one to inherit his mother’s exact shade of hair and curls. He enters on the arm of an older gentleman with clear Middle-Eastern heritage, Marquis Cassius Prince. Cassius has graying-ebony curls and piercing black-brown eyes with hawk-like facial features. He is the tallest man in the room with a broad and muscular build. He is dressed in a tuxedo with pale-gray-silver robe. Alphard also wears a tuxedo, but his robe is an emerald color. Alphard’s emerald eyes immediately fix on Ana in interest and longing. The group turns to greet Arcturus first.

The last to enter, much to everyone else’s surprise, are the Tonks family. Andromeda has the same black hair as her mother, Druella Rosier Black. She has pale skin and is tall and curvaceous like her sister Bellatrix. However, where Bellatrix has cruel ebony-colored eyes, Andromeda has stunning pale-blue eyes. Andromeda is wearing a dark-blue qipao with silver embroidery. Andromeda’s husband, Edward Tonks, had pale golden hair and sapphire eyes. He is tall and broad shouldered. He is a handsome man and in his navy-blue suit he looks stunning. However, most shocking is their daughter, Nymphadora or Dora as Ana calls her. She’s eleven and her thick curls are changing between pink and deep-purple to match her purple and pink polka-dotted black dinner dress. Her eyes are a deep blue eye. Pollux has dropped his silver watch, it is hanging from its chain to his knees swinging back and forth. It looks ridiculous. Everyone has stopped speaking to stare at the young girl. She shies away from the attention behind her mother’s legs. “A Metamorph.” Pollux whispers in shock, voicing it for everyone for every adult.

Then Ana moves darting away from his Grandma Mel. He reaches the Tonks family who are standing stiffly and peers around Andromeda, who takes it with good humor. He sticks his hand out to Andromeda’s daughter, “Hello, I am Antares Black-Blythe, but for some reason everyone calls me Ana. I am nine-years-old.” The other adults in the room, unaware of Ana’s identity look even more surprised.

Nymphadora graciously accepts Ana’s hand and says warmly, “Hello, Ana, I’m Nymphadora Tonks, but please call me Dora. I am eleven-years-old, and I am Hufflepuff in Hogwarts.” She says defensively mentioning Hufflepuff. The adults murmur unhappily, but Antares just ignores their grumbling.

“Let me guess, loyal to those who deserve it, patient and enduring, but fierce when in the defense of others. You’d be someone I’d want at my back in a fight.” Ana says proudly. A smile slips across Dora’s face at Ana’s words. She nods excitedly. “Afterall a Honey Badger is one of the most dangerous animals in the wild and they’re fearless, taking on snakes, humans and lions on their own. They had claws and sharp teeth. They can evade complex traps and are clearly intelligent. I will never underestimate one.”

This gives everyone pause. “Which house do you think you will be in Ana?” Dora asks excitedly.

“I am guessing Ravenclaw or Slytherin.” Ana replies with a smile.

Les laughs. “You’ve be a Ravenclaw with the sheer amounts of books you’ve devoured when you think I am not looking.”

“Dora, why don’t you introduce your friend?” Andromeda instructs her daughter.

“Mum, this is Antares Black-Blythe, my cousin. Ana, this is my mum, Andromeda Tonks.”

“Actually, it is Heir Antares Black-Blythe.” Arcturus corrects, and everyone turns to look at the man in surprise. “Ana is both the heir to the Blythe and Black bloodlines. His father is as you have probably guessed, Earl Alessander Blythe, and his surrogate mother is Cassiopeia Black.” Cassie turns and nods at the surprised group before turning back to her perusal of books, “We have kept Antares private because we feared for his safety as toddler as the child of three bloodlines. The Black, Blythe and Trelawney bloodlines.” Before Pollux could ask about Aquila, Arcturus says, “Aquila did not want the responsibility as Marquis Black. I did ask him though. He was relieved when I introduced him to Ana. Aquila will arrive later.”

“Alright,” Dora interrupts the silence, “Mum, this is Heir Antares Black-Blythe, my cousin. Ana, this is my mum, Andromeda Tonks.” She says. Ana gives Andromeda and beaming grin and inclines his head. Due to his hasty tutoring by Aunt Cassie for this event, Ana knows not to bow to anyone other than those who hold higher titles than him. He also does not shake any adult’s hand, only those who are below the age of seventeen.

“Alright, let us adjourn for our meal!” Arcturus says turning on his heel and leading everyone to the formal dining room. The meal is delightful, even though much of the attention is turned on the children. Ana seems hesitant to speak at first, but slowly grows more and more confident. He’s a talented orator, there is little doubt, his own family hangs off his words. Dora is shy in this situation, but Ana coaxes her out. They discuss her third-year elective class options. To the surprise of many, Ana describes each subject and their potential career options with immense detail and comprehension. Although, it is obvious that Ana is fascinated with Runes and Arithmancy. Much of the family is surprised by Ana’s knowledge of Muggle technology, but the information can easily be found in muggle school textbooks which Ana says guilty that he took.

Some of the information he talks about involving muggles is clearly alarming like World War II, especially the Atomic Bomb and Auschwitz, Muggle Cameras and Computers. Much of the family intends to look into this knowledge to verify it. Even the most anti-muggle members, who consider muggles akin to brutes, of the family are surprised and worried by this information. Pollux even dares to bring up some of the Dark Lord’s, Marius Gaunt’s views on muggle society, as the others glare disapprovingly. Ana addresses the topics carefully and diplomatically. He offers proofs and possible repercussions of every action and inaction. The others only notice how long the conversation has become when Ana’s voice begins to grow hoarse and Dora sags in her seat tiredly, but listening, enthralled by her cousin. 

* * *

Arcturus retires to his study to make a few notes about the conversation while it is still fresh in his mind. He is unprepared to find Bellatrix and her parents waiting for him in the study. The door is slammed shut behind him as Bellatrix greets him tiredly, “Hello Arcturus,” she says disdainfully, “I think it is time we have a discussion about the future of the Black family.”

“Oh?” Arcturus asks, fearlessly taking a seat at his desk certain that the Black family wards will protect him.

“I know you plan to name my half-brother the Heir of the Black family. You won’t. You will name my child with the Dark Lord, the heir to the family as he or she is deserving of!” Bellatrix says caressing the slight swell of her belly.

“Under whose orders?” Arcturus asks disdainfully sneering at her.

“You will, or we will kill you. The Black wards have been nullified.” Bellatrix says dangerously.

“I have already named my heir.” Arcturus says firmly, “If you kill me it will be a pointless endeavor.”

“Kill the bastard anyway, then we will force Aquila to pass on the title to our grandchild.” Druella instructs her daughter.

“Don’t order me to do anything,” Bellatrix snaps even though her wand is already drawn, Arcturus ducks behind his chair, knocking himself violently out, just as the study doors are thrown open and the room descends into chaos. Spells fly left and right as the group battles against Bellatrix, Cygnus II and Druella. Cygnus is quickly dealt with by his own father. However, it is Druella and Bellatrix who has already unarmed or incapacitated many of the family. The only two still standing against them are Alessander and Andromeda. Then Andromeda is thrown against the wall like a ragdoll by her mother’s wand.

“Disgusting whore!” Her mother snaps, wand lighting green as she intones the killing curse at Andromeda. Arcturus comes to just as Druella is about to release the spell. _He’s going to be too late. His cousin is going to die by her mother’s hand._ However, Druella abruptly screams, eyes wild. Her wand arm is burning away – skin fades to muscle and muscle to bone as Druella screams. Bellatrix and Druella turn to the door where Ana is glowing bright red, flames dancing in his irises. Then Druella faints falling to the floor. 

“You!” Bellatrix snarls raising her wand, glowing green. She points it at Ana. Arcturus unsteadily releases a bludgeoning hex at Bellatrix striking her right side, just as the Aurors pour into the room, pushing Antares to the side.

* * *

**To Be Continued**

_**There will be a two year time-skip in the next chapter. I still do not have a beta, mine disappeared... Please contact me if you’re interested.** _

Leave a review on your way out…

 

Would anyone want a Side-Story about this Version of Tom Slytherin-Flamel?

Was the last bit of this chapter suspenseful?

Are you looking forward to more?

What would you do different in this chapter?

Any suggestions for me?

Anything you want to see happen (Not guaranteed though)?

 


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